A World Apart
by Ser'goneth
Summary: It's Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Several things are happening and many are changing. Will harry and his friend be able to survive another year of Voldemort?
1. Author's Notes

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Author's Notes

Okay, here's the deal. This is a crossover fanfiction about R.A. Salvatore's Drizzt Do'Urden and J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. I realize that for most crossovers it's over before it begins. However, occasionally one can find a good crossover. I also realize the dangers of trying to write a crossover, especially when using one or more series or characters that the great majority of fanfiction readers do not know about. I was very eager to take on this project of creating a crossover between Drizzt and another series. However, I was loath to try and decide the other series until I read the fifth harry Potter book and that's when I realized what it should be. Now I understand that for each and every crossover fanfiction either it is very good or it is very bad. There is no in-between. That is why I beseech you to read mine and see what you think.

I myself think that I've done a rather nice job of melding two worlds together that have previously never crossed, but that is just the bias of an egotistic aspiring author. That is why I am begging you to read through this fanfiction and review it so that I might know what you think, for if it sucks from the beginning I will remove it right away. However, if I get a positive response, I will continue on with it. Now, that I have that out of the way I must tell you that this particular fanfiction begins in Drizzt's world. If you know nothing about this world, please read the first chapter anyway. It is important that you find out how Drizzt and Harry's worlds collide, and after that first chapter the perspective alternates between Harry and Drizzt. With all that said, I hope you enjoy it.

_Ser'goneth_


	2. Chapter 1: Worlds Collide

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any names, ideas, or characters associated with it. Nor do I own Harry Potter or any names, ideas, or characters associated with _it_. However, I do own the actual content of this piece of fiction and any made up characters or things or whatever, so please don't steal them.

Author's Notes: Here's the first chapter of this fanfiction. As I stated in my "chapter entitled _Author's Notes_, this is a crossover fanfiction, but do please read it and tell me what you think. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Worlds Collide

"What is that thing?" Wulfgar shouted over the tremendous, bone-shattering roar that issued from the colossal beast before him. He hoisted his magical war-hammer, Aegis-Fang, onto his broad, muscled shoulder, ready to strike the monster again.

"Not sure," Bruenor yelled back as the monster calmed slightly and began to search for easier prey. "Oh no ye don't, ye orc-lovin' hog's ass!" Bruenor growled. "Ye're not gettin' Rumblebelly!" He swung his many-notched axe back and flung it forcefully into the monster's skeletal leg, causing it to roar again, louder.

Drizzt Do'Urden watched the battle from his perch in a nearby tree, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His lavender eyes sought his friends below, making them out clearly in the infrared spectrum as all drow eyes can do. His black skin concealed him quite well. Slowly, one-by-one, he found them all; Cattie-brie, her long auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail as she sent arrow after magical arrow into the beast. He saw Bruenor Battlehammer, the dwarf king of Mithral Hall, hacking away at the thing's legs and making little progress. Wulfgar, the barbarian from Icewind Dale, threw that magical war-hammer—a gift from Bruenor—straight at the beast's eye-less face, making little more progress than Bruenor. The war-hammer suddenly reappeared in his large hands, ready to go to work again. Finally, Drizzt found Regis—also called "Rumblebelly" or his enormous appetite—the halfling cowering away from the battle as usual. He was even more shaken than normal, his hand clutching his tiny mace so tightly that his knuckles were white, since he'd just nearly been attacked by the monster. Only Bruenor's quick thinking and heavy swing had saved him.

The monster in question reminded Drizzt of a fifty foot tall skeleton of a dragon, with no flesh or muscles, standing upright on its rear legs. However, he could see a heart that gave off no heat of any kind that was detectable in the infrared spectrum. Greatly concerned by this, he had reached into the pouch at his waist, clasping the small, black figurine of a panther. He rolled it in his hand slowly for a few moments before noticing something else about this foe. From his current position, he could see that which was invisible from the ground. On the ground, the monster's breast plates obscured one's view, but Drizzt could see clearly the swirling of what seemed to be images of places long gone from the world and people dead for centuries as well as those that had not come yet. His breath stopped and his heart seized momentarily as recognition sank in. Drizzt was gazing upon a Time Pool. He had heard of them before, but he had never seen one. Time Pools had the ability to transport anyone who was able to jump into them to any point in time, past or future. They controlled the very ebb and flow of the Space-Time Continuum.

Unconsciously, Drizzt drew his twin scimitars quickly, hardly noticing his own movements as the perfectly balanced blades came into his hands in the blink of an eye. He wanted to warn the others about his discovery, but he couldn't give away his position to the monster. However, if his suspicions proved true, then this beast had the power to manipulate time at any moment. All their lives were in grave danger. He couldn't—he wouldn't—let his friends die because he hadn't wanted to let the enemy know of his presence. Shaking his thick mane of white hair away from his face, Drizzt opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Cattie-brie beat him to it.

"Drizzt, feel free to join in any time now," called out the girl's sweet, light, melodic voice. "It's not like we haven't got the need fer yer help or anything!"

"Yeah, ye damned elf!" Bruenor bellowed his agreement with his adopted human daughter. "Get yer ass out here or I'll cut ye down next!" Drizzt smiled at the dwarf's threat, knowing fully well that Bruenor meant every word. He silently slid his scimitars into their sheaths and reached into his belt pouch again, withdrawing the panther figurine. He set it on the tree limb beside him and called out to his best friend in the entire world. Immediately smoke began to swirl around the small statue and a great, black panther appeared from it. Guenhwyvar's muscles tensed as her yellow eyes searched for any threats to her master. She noted the giant beast and Drizzt's companions battling with it. Quickly she moved to pounce on the unknown foe, but Drizzt stopped her with a hand pressed firmly on her back.

"Guenhwyvar, stay here," Drizzt whispered urgently to the tremendous feline. "Be ready to jump into the battle at my signal." Guenhwyvar sat back on her haunches and regarded him stoically as Wulfgar roared out to Tempus, his god of battle, for strength and victory. Drizzt knew she was eager to fight—he could feel it—but he was confident that she would obey his order.

"I meant what I said, elf! Ye'll be the next notch on me axe if ye don't get yer ass out here now!" Bruenor screamed again over another of Wulfgar's fury-filled shouts to Tempus as he heaved Aegis-Fang at the monster again, attempting to knock its feet from under it. This only served to anger the thing more and it flung Wulfgar from his feet with a backhanded swipe and an earth-shaking roar. Drizzt scratched Guen's ear once and his scimitars flew into his hands again as a flame began to dance within his lavender eyes. His drow instincts began to surface as they did so often in the heat of battle and before he knew what was happening he was plummeting toward the forest floor, his cloak and hair flying around his wildly.

Once on the ground, Drizzt was forced into a sidelong roll to avoid a fierce sweep of the monster's tail, coming up with scimitars flashing. He quickly put the blades to work in a mad frenzy of slashes at the monster's tail as it moved away from him around the clearing. He did no damage to the beast that he could see, but he gained its attention. Forced into another diving roll as the monster's clawed hand shot down at him, Drizzt came up at once again ready to strike at the monster. His eyes flitted quickly to Bruenor who was edging slowly toward Wulfgar as he struggled with his body to regain his feet. Then he glanced to Cattie-brie who—having followed Drizzt's lead—was rolling to her feet, bow at the ready, after having dived to avoid the monster's tail as well. Finally his lavender orbs came back to rest upon the monster and he saw the opening he knew he needed desperately.

Leaping into the air, Drizzt landed gracefully on the back of the thing's hand and sprinted the length of its arm—his drow instincts and litheness the only things keeping him from being throw off. He was thinking to get a few nice blows in on its neck in hopes that it might cause damage in fairly substantial amounts, what with the neck being a rather vulnerable spot on the body, and dropped a globe of darkness that not even his drow eyes could penetrate over the monster's head to confuse it. In fact, he did manage to land a few blows with Twinkle and Icingdeath, but it was to no avail. His eyes darted frantically as a silver-shafted arrow thunked into the head of the monster not two inches from Drizzt. Glancing down at Cattie-brie, who had already nocked and let fly two more of those magical arrows, he noticed the monster's one weak spot. One could very easily get at the heart of the thing from above, were it not for that Time Pool. An attempt from Drizzt's current position would likely find him sucked into the Pool and whisked away to another time. However, the fact that he could strike the heart from here was not what had caught his eye. He had noticed a small crack between the breastplates of the monster. It was not very large, but there was just enough room for something very slight to get through…something like a silver-shafted arrow. Just as this dawned on Drizzt, the monster decided that it had had enough of him and flung its head about wildly, throwing him to the ground. He regained his feet rather slowly and spotted Regis edging his way toward the gigantic creature, his eyes wide with terror and his little mace clutched tightly in his right hand. Drizzt knew that Regis felt he had to protect his friends, but his sacrifice would be useless if this did not end soon.

"Cattie-brie," Drizzt shouted across the clearing tot he auburn-haired girl, "that thing had a heart behind those breastplates! Aim for that crack in its chest!" He pointed to the crack and Cattie-brie paused momentarily with an arrow drawn fully back to her cheek. She nodded and turned back to the beast, beginning to aim for the spot Drizzt had indicated, but was forced to jump backward to avoid being bowled over by a sweep of the thing's clawed hand. This, in turn, caused her to trip over a tree root protruding from the ground and fall, hitting her head on a rock and falling unconscious. As this happened, she let the arrow fly uselessly into the air to embed itself with a solid thunk into a tree branch above her.

Drizzt felt his heart sink as the impending doom closed in on him. He saw Cattie-brie laying on the forest floor, unconscious and Regis now standing awestruck at what had happened to Cattie-brie. His hand drooped at his sides, the scimitars sliding from his grip as the monster gave yet another roar, this tie one of triumph. This was it for the adventurous friends. They had finally come up against an enemy they could not fell. With Cattie-brie's arrow went their only hope of beating this monster. He was about to send Guenhwyvar back to her Astral home so that she wouldn't have to die as well, when he saw movement in the outer edge of his vision. Spinning on the balls of his feet, Drizzt found Wulfgar now struggling to his feet—with the help of Bruenor—and he felt a surge of renewed hope course through him at his friend's determination to fight on.

Suddenly Drizzt became brazenly aware that Regis still stood not ten feet from the monster, unnoticed and immobilized by fear, but for how long the situation remain that way, Drizzt could not tell. Throwing a second globe of darkness over the thing's head, he took off around the clearing, leaping agilely over logs and roots, trying to get to Regis before the beast realized what was going on. He was nearly there when the globe dissipated and the monster realized what was happening. It brought its house-sized foot up to stomp Regis into the ground and Drizzt dived, taking Regis to the ground and out of the way at the last second. Immediately thereafter a great roar to Tempus issued from Wulfgar as he gathered all of his strength into one last, tremendous throw, heaving Aegis-Fang at the crack in the monster's breastplates. Drizzt glanced up and noticed with horror a black streak flying across the sky.

"Guen! No!" Drizzt screamed, but it was too late. The feline had already begun her descent. She arrived at the monster, latching onto its heart a mere fraction of a second before Wulfgar's magical war-hammer slammed home into the monster so forcefully that it shattered the bone of it chest and pushed the heart and Guenhwyvar with it into the Time Pool.

"Guenhwyvar!" Drizzt screamed again, but this time he couldn't hear himself for the ear-splitting, earth-shattering explosion that erupted from the Time Pool. For a few moments all Drizzt could see was an intense light, so bright that he thought it would burn his eyes from their sockets. Then came the absolute, total darkness. A darkness sot thick that not even his drow eyes, made for such a thing, could penetrate it.


	3. Chapter 2: The Drow Elf

Author's Notes: I just wanted to let you all know that in this second chapter some things are explained and others not. You see, the explosion in last chapter caused two worlds to merge and so things are a bit different here. If anything seems weird, people not where they should be or things not how they really happened, that's why. Also, for those of you who never read the Drizzt series, every chapter will feature footnotes at the bottom for words or phrases not really associated with Harry Potter. All disclaimers are in the first chapter. Thank you.

Chapter 2: The Drow Elf

Harry Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table, under a gloomy, dark sky, next to Ronald Weasley. After having been underfed all summer at his relatives', the Dursleys, house, he was starved when he arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was shoveling food into his waiting mouth while he listened to Ron tell him about how much he hated Draco Malfoy. The boy could be an absolute prat when he wanted to. When he tried especially hard, he made Harry and his friends' lives miserable. Earlier on the Hogwarts Express, Malfoy had played a cruel prank on Ron, using a charm to turn one of his Cauldron Cakes into a rather large spider. Ron was deathly afraid of spiders and due to a leakage of information, most likely courtesy of Fred and George Weasley—Ron's older, twin brothers—everyone in the whole school knew it now.

"You know, someone ought to pound him good," Ron was saying as Hermione Granger, sitting across from them, made disapproving sounds in her throat. Ron was about to tell her off when the doors of the Great Hall were flung open with a slam. Nearly simultaneously, four hundred seventy-eight heads, students' and professors' alike, turned to see what the commotion was about. As well, four hundred seventy-eight sets of eyes saw Dormir Warmaker, the dwarven caretaker of Hogwarts, running into the room. A silence fell thick in the Hall, every eye trained on Dormir's labored steps as he sprinted as fast as his stubby, short little legs would carry him. Skidding to a stop in front of the professors' table, he leaned across it, whispering frantically to Headmaster Dumbledore. The eyes of the two professors on either side of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick, grew wider with every word spoken by the caretaker. Harry watched just as intently as everyone else did, but he continued throwing food down his throat, stopping two times to down some pumpkin juice.

Everyone watched anxiously as Professor Dumbledore whispered something to Professor McGonagall, who ran down to the end of the table and said something to the half-giant groundskeeper, Hagrid. The two of them then hurried out of the Hall. Dumbledore then leaned around Professor Flitwick and said something to another of the professors, a halfling, whom Harry didn't recognize and supposed was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron turned to him with a puzzled look and mouthed, "What's going on?" Harry merely shrugged and took another swig of pumpkin juice, finishing it off. He glanced at Hermione who was watching Dormir intently with a worried expression on her face. He knew she must have been thinking that something terrible was happening or had happened. Professor Dumbledore simply went back to his meal. After the students had realized that the headmaster wasn't going to say anything about the news Dormir had brought, they began to chatter noisily, speculating over what may or may not have happened.

Once Dumbledore had finished his meal, he pushed his plate away from him and stood. Immediately silence fell over the Great Hall once again as students from every table impatiently awaited either news of what Dormir had brought or Dumbledore's annual welcome speech. Dormir had already gone, probably to do his job, much to Hermione's distress. "As I'm sure you are all very anxious to know," Dumbledore began, looking at them all down his crooked nose, "Dormir Warmaker, our caretaker, brought me some rather distressing news a few moments ago." Here he paused and Harry could've sworn he'd given himself a pointed look. "An unconscious drow elf has been discovered on the third floor." Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath, not quite a gasp, from every person in the Hall. Dumbledore paused again to allow the excited chatter that ensued to die down. "You are to go directly to your House as a whole and led by your House Heads. Gryffindor, with your House Head on an errand, Professor Flitwick will escort you to your House. Any student caught deviating from these instructions will face expulsion." With that, Dumbledore swept out of the Great Hall, the Divination teacher, Azul Sobre, and elf, on his heels. Moments later, Professor Snape spoke softly to the professor beside him and then followed Azul.

A few moments later, the Great Hall was buzzing again with excited speculation about this new development and was quickly quieted by the Heads of House as they filed their charges from the room by table. Harry noticed that Professor Sprout, the woman Snape had spoken to, was leading Slytherin. Gryffindor was the last house out of the Hall with the little Charms professor leading the way to Gryffindor Tower. Upon arriving at the portrait of the fat lady that guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Professor Flitwick whispered something to Lee Jordan, who nodded, and then hurried off down the corridor. Once Professor Flitwick was out of sight, Lee politely woke the fat lady who beamed down at him as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Chocolate frogs," Lee said and the portrait swung open to reveal a hole leading into the Gryffindor common room. Harry was reminded vaguely of Professor Dumbledore's fondness of using the names of sweets as passwords to his personal office and quarters. Slowly, the House began to file into the common room, one by one.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last ones into the common room, aside from the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. They were greeted by the sound of chattering Gryffindors, all talking about the drow, and they found Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom already waiting for them in their usual comfy, red, velvet-covered chairs by the fireplace. The two of them seemed to be whispering fervently with each other. Harry guessed that they, like everyone else, were talking about the drow. However, instead of consulting the new arrival about Dumbledore's shocking news, Ginny and Neville ceased talking when the three sat down, blushing insanely. Hermione eyed the two suspiciously for a moment and had opened her mouth to say something when they heard a thickly Irish-accented and familiar voice.

"What do you mates think about that monster being loose in the school?" Seamus Finnigan asked as he strolled toward Harry and friends, Dean Thomas on his heels.

"I assume that you are talking about the drow," Hermione said coldly. She hadn't quite forgiven Dean and Seamus for a prank that they had played on her during their fifth year at Hogwarts. Seamus chuckled at her tone.

"Yeah, that's him," Dean replied. "I just hope my parents don't find out. They'll pull me out of here so fast…" He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air, nearly tangible.

"How can they not?" Harry asked sarcastically. "The bloody _Daily Prophet_ has a way of finding these things out and embellishing them greatly." Hermione nodded her agreement.

"Tomorrow morning the whole world will know about how a Dark Elf snuck into the castle and attacked and killed or injured half of the students."

"But nobody was…" Ron started to say before he realized that Hermione had been using sarcasm as well. He flushed a vibrant red and lowered his eyes to the floor in embarrassment. Hermione turned a suspicious gaze once again upon Neville and Ginny.

"You two have been awfully quiet. What are your thoughts on this whole ordeal?" She reminded Harry of a psychology doctor that Aunt Petunia seemed to be madly in love with.

"Well," Neville glanced at Ginny for reassurance, and she nodded, "Ginny and I just wonder how dangerous this drow really is." He seemed embarrassed by his own brevity and looked at Ginny again, who nodded once more and smiled at him.

"What?!" Ron exploded suddenly, a look of sheer terror painted on his face, like a grotesque mask. "How can you…I mean, think of all of the raids they have made on the surface! Think of all the stories mum and dad have told us about the drow!"

"But that's just it, Ron," Ginny stated calmly. "They were stories. Have you ever met a Drow? Have you ever seen one of those alleged raids? Have you ever seen a dark elf slaughter dozens of innocents for the sheer sport of it? I don't think you have, else your head would be so big that you wouldn't fit in the Great Hall for the fact that you'd seen a feared black elf and lived to tell!" Ron shook with rage and indignation at this humiliation from his own younger sister, the tips of his ears heating and turning a bright scarlet. Harry now understood why the two had wanted to keep this a secret—to avoid an outburst like this. Frankly, he thought that they probably weren't too far off the mark on this one.

"You can't tell me that you truly believe…" he growled, but Harry cut him off.

"Wait a sec, Ron. Ginny makes a lot of sense." Ron stared at Harry incredulously for a few moments before his eyes narrowed and he began to glare at Harry hotly. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Seriously, what would a legendary drow elf be doing at Hogwarts, and laying unconscious in the middle of a third floor corridor at that!" The common room suddenly seemed very quiet as every ear trained on the small group near the fire.

"I don't care what a drow was doing at Hogwarts!" Ron shouted unnecessarily. "I don't care why it's here, why it was unconscious, or whether or not it intends to hurt us! It's a bloody dark elf and the professors should kill _it_ before _it_ has a chance to kill _us_!" A murmur of agreement, no matter how tense and forced it seemed, ran through the other Gryffindors in the common room as Professor McGonagall burst through the portrait hole.

"What's all this screaming going on?" she demanded as she glared around the room over the top of her spectacles. She looked as if she'd just been slipped some bitter pumpkin juice and needed to take out her frustration on the side of some student or another's head.

"Oh, it was nothing Professor," George Weasley said smoothly, covering for his little brother, Ron.

"Yeah," Fred chimed in, "Ron and Harry were just having a bit of a row's all. Nothing to worry about." Professor McGonagall didn't seem quite satisfied with this answer, but she gave a resigned sigh and addressed Ron and Harry.

"Well Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter…please keep it down." Addressing the rest of the Gryffindors, she said, "I've come to tell you all that the headmaster has already handled the situation with the drow. You can all rest assured that no danger will come to you." She surveyed the room wearily and then swept back out of the portrait hole.

For several, long minutes after Professor McGonagall's departure, the common room was nearly silent with the only sounds coming from the crackling fire, ablaze in the fireplace. Harry had never understood why, but that fire was always roaring, even during the hotter months. Finally Dean Thomas broke the silence with a rather large yawn. "Well, I think I'm going to head to bed," he mumbled, trying to suppress his yawn.

"Me too, you mates coming?" Seamus asked Harry, Ron and Neville. He too lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle a gigantic yawn.

"I think I will as well. I'm pretty tired. It's nearly eleven o'clock already," Neville replied. He climbed to his feet sluggishly, giving Ginny a look of thanks for helping him confront Ron with their shared beliefs. Ron merely remained silent, still fuming and Harry shook his head slightly as he stared into the flames in the hearth, mesmerized by their uniquely beautiful dance. Slowly the trio made its way up to the boys' dormitory. It wasn't until they'd disappeared up the stairs that nervous chatter began to break out all over the common room. No one knew what to talk about, however, after Ron's outburst and the news that the situation was under control. Ginny and Hermione took up a conversation over what courses they were both taking this year. Ginny seemed a bit nervous about her O.W.L.s this year, but Hermione assured her that as long as she studied, she'd be right as rain. Harry didn't hear anything for the fact that he was staring so intently into the fire. Nor did he hear Ron tell him that he was going to bed. Harry knew that he would have another nightmare tonight, most likely about Lord Voldemort, the man he had vowed to kill. Yet, he had a distinct, insistent feeling that this nightmare would have something to do with a drow elf.

A couple of hours later, Harry looked away from the fire to find that he was alone in the common room. He suddenly realized how tired he was and pulled himself out of the chair with a vague longing to stay and sleep in the chair. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory and entered the room he was sharing with Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville. He didn't bother with his clothes but merely threw himself into bed without undressing. He lay awake for a few minutes, listening to the snores and rhythmic breathing of his dorm mates. Then he too drifted off into the world of slumber.

When Drizzt awoke he found he was lying on a cold, marble floor on his back. As the last thing he'd seen was Guenhwyvar pushed into the Time Pool, his first thought was of her safety. He jumped to his feet, his hand going to his belt pouch. However, his pouch was gone, as were his scimitars and hidden knives and daggers. As his eyes darted around, a mountain of a man grabbed him and forced his hands behind his back. At the same time, a rather tall, elderly woman pointed a long, slender wand at his wrists and they were instantly bound together tightly. She did the same to his ankles and the big man set him on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"Well, what do we do now?" the man asked his companion in a gruff voice.

"We wait," she replied, eyeing Drizzt warily. "Albus told us to wait for his arrival." Drizzt's head was reeling. Guenhwyvar and his weapons were gone, he was being restrained by a man large enough to seem a giant and a mage, and he was in a place that reminded him vaguely of the Hosttower of the Arcane1 in Luskan2. Drizzt studied his captors complacently, returning their fear-filled glares with warm smiles. He knew the reason that he was in captivity. He had faced rejection due to the color of his skin ever since he had left the Menzoberranzan3 and the Underdark4 to go to the surface. No one ever took the time to get to know him. They merely assumed that he had come to kill them. Every time he smiled at his captors, they started and inched backward slowly. Finally, he decided to try speaking to them.

"Hello," Drizzt said clearly, "I am Drizzt Do'Urden. Might you be able to tell me where I am?" If they'd been sacred by his smiles, they seemed terrified now. The big man—a barbarian like Wulfgar, Drizzt had decided—raised his fists as if to fight Drizzt and the woman, seemingly a mage, raised her wand slightly. She was muttering what Drizzt supposed was a spell when a voice called out from down the hallway, thick with age and wisdom. All three heads snapped around toward the voice. Drizzt saw a man with a long white beard, wearing light blue mage's robes. He was followed closely by two others in robes, one a human and one an elf, while the third was a dwarf in commoner's clothing. Drizzt felt something drop into the pit of his stomach, sure that this was the end of him with three magical people around and his arms and legs bound as they were.

"Minerva, stop it!" the man in the light blue robes called.

"But, Albus," the woman stammered belligerently, her wand still half-raised to cast a spell on Drizzt, "it said…"

"Well, from what I heard, _he_ said hello," Albus replied smoothly and calmly as he strolled up to Drizzt with an air of complete confidence. He took a wand from the inside of his robes and waved it in the air quickly, releasing Drizzt from his magical bonds. All of the others gasped at Albus' brazen act of courage. Drizzt sat stock-still, not quite sure if this was a test or if he could really stand and be equal with these mages.

"Headmaster," a tall slender man with black, slicked-back hair said, "perhaps we should call to Silverymoon5 for Lady Alustriel6 or to Citadel Adbar7 for King Harbromme8. I'm sure they would know how to handle this. However, I think that you should put the thing back into its bonds."

"I appreciate your concern, Severus," Albus replied without taking his eyes off of Drizzt, "but I am confident that Lady Alustriel need not be bothered. In fact, you'll find that we are in no danger from Mr. Do'Urden here." Drizzt was so deep in thought at the mention of Silverymoon and Lady Alustriel that he didn't register Albus' last words. If they called for Lady Alustriel, everything would be okay. She knew that Drizzt was no passionless murderer like his people9. She knew that he had a good heart and would never harm anyone unless they intended to harm another for no reason. Perhaps she'd be able to convince these people of his innocence. When he finally came back to reality, Albus' hand was outstretched to him and a wide smile was painted on his face. Drizzt tentatively took the hand and pulled himself to his feet.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Drizzt Do'Urden. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Drizzt nodded solemnly, hardly able to believe that this man was being nice to him. For once, with no questions asked, someone was treating him as an equal, not as a monster like most, or a great piece of nature to be studied, like the Harpells10 in Longsaddle11. Slowly Dumbledore pointed around the circle of people, introducing everyone to Drizzt. "This is Hagrid, the groundskeeper, Minerva McGonagall the Transfiguration professor, Severus Snape the Potions Master, Azul Sobre the Divination professor, and Dormir Warmaker the caretaker." Drizzt noted the way that Dormir cowered from him behind Severus and the way that Azul glared at him with millennia of hatred. He knew that that would be one wall that would be impossible to tear down.

"Greetings Headmaster Albus Dumbledore," Drizzt smiled again. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden. Could you possibly tell me how I have come to be here at your fine institute of mages?" Dumbledore chuckled slightly, shaking his head in amusement. Behind him, the man he had identified as Severus Snape began to sneer in what Drizzt assumed was rage at his unwitting insulting question. Perplexed, Drizzt looked to Dumbledore, expecting an explanation to be forthcoming.

"No, no, no," Dumbledore chuckled still, "we are not mages. We are wizards and witches." Drizzt was quite confused. He hadn't been aware that there was a difference between the two classifications. A man or woman that could use magic was a mage to him, all the same.

"Is there a difference?" Drizzt asked sincerely. Everyone around him gasped in horror as if he'd called them all a lot of orc-friends and goblin-lovers. Dumbledore merely smiled understandingly, but Severus could not hold his absolute rage in check any longer.

"Headmaster, is this monster to be allowed to make such slanderous statements? We are nothing like the honorless cowards that call themselves mages!12" His face was beginning to turn a fair shade of crimson, reminding Drizzt of Bruenor in a temper. His fists were clenched into whiteness as he glared nearly as much hatred at him as Azul. Suddenly there was a rush of noise from all around. It was a sound like hundreds of chattering people and hundreds of feet marching through the halls.

"That will be the students," Dumbledore proclaimed. "They've been sent straight to their Houses, what with the danger of a drow on the loose." He smiled at Drizzt to let him know that he meant no offense in the remark, then turned to Severus. "Severus, please don't call our guest a monster. He has feelings just the same as the rest of us." Drizzt could hardly believe his ears. All his life he'd been shunned and outcasted, and yet twice in one day, a man had defended him knowing nothing more than his race and his name. Azul opened her mouth and then shut it, and then opened it again. She gaped at Dumbledore, her eyes darting back and forth between him and Drizzt as if she wanted to say something.

"Gue…guest? Headmaster, surely you can't be…a guest! After all of the things that his kind have done, he's a guest here?!" Azul seemed as if she were about to slap Dumbledore and faint at the same time.

"Quite right, Azul. He is our guest. Now then Drizzt, if you will kindly follow me, we will go to a more private place where we can talk." Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle gaily as he spoke. "I'm sure the rest of you have something or other that you could be attending to. Minerva, if you will accompany me to my office? And Hagrid, please return Drizzt's possessions to him." The large man regarded the headmaster as if he were a madman for a few moments before finally reaching into his coat and producing Drizzt's scimitars, Twinkle and Icingdeath, his belt pouch, two daggers and several throwing knives. He tossed them to the ground at Drizzt's feet—not wanting to get close enough to hand them to him—who wasted no time in scooping them up and placing them back where they belonged. Suddenly remembering Guenhwyvar, his hand shot into his recovered belt pouch, floundering for the small figurine. His heart sank when the search proved fruitless.

Hagrid's face lit up in realization as he remembered something. He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, black figurine of a panther and held it out to Drizzt reluctantly. "I foun' this on th' floor over yonder," he said slowly, jerking a thumb back down the corridor. "Figured th' thing migh' be yours." Drizzt took the figurine from Hagrid, holding it delicately in the palm of his black, slender hand as he thanked the big man heartily. His soul was soaring with relief at having Guenhwyvar returned to him. In a rush of gratitude, he thrust his hand at Hagrid, who took it in a rather forced and tense handshake. As Drizzt let Dumbledore lead him away, he could feel the gaze of the others on his back. Most of them, he knew, were hateful. However, he thought he saw a little of something like Bruenor and Wulfgar in Hagrid. Perhaps if he prodded the right places he could provoke a friendship with the big man. Yet, he knew that he wouldn't for the fact that he planned to begin searching for his friends as soon as he could. He wondered if perhaps Dumbledore would know of the quartet of companions and decided to inquire about the matter when he got the chance.

The walk to Dumbledore's office was short enough, taking only about five minutes. Drizzt stared in wonderment at the moving staircases that they descended. He'd not seen something like this in all his life. The Hosttower would be hard-pressed to produce something of this grandeur. When Dumbledore stopped in front of a stone gargoyle statue, Drizzt's eyes darted around, looking for a door. When he didn't find one, he figured that perhaps Dumbledore had just stopped to rest for a few moments. After all the man looked as if he were well over one hundred and he may need to rest his old bones. Imagine his surprise when Dumbledore stated "Whatchamacallit!" and the stone gargoyle jumped aside to reveal a doorway leading to a moving, spiral staircase. Without another word, Dumbledore climbed onto the stairs, Drizzt and McGonagall following, and was whisked to the top to his office door.

The trio entered the headmaster's office and again Drizzt was amazed. He had never seen such a collection of magical items. On one shelf of a cabinet he saw a bowl made of silver. When he looked into it, he saw several swirling images, some of which cleared to the point of viewable, others that flashed and were gone. On a stand near the door perched a small golden-and-red-feathered bird of some sort, grandly beautiful. He studied the fascinating creature with great interest, watching its head movements and wings as it studied him in return. After several long moments, Dumbledore cleared his throat softly to regain Drizzt's attention.

"I see you've met Fawks, my phoenix," Dumbledore said. Drizzt suddenly remembered where he was and turned to face Dumbledore and McGonagall. The latter regarded him rather fearfully despite Dumbledore's apparent ease.

"Please have a seat, Drizzt Do'Urden," Dumbledore said politely, indicating a chair before his desk. Drizzt heaved a heavy sigh and plopped into the color-shifting chair the headmaster had offered.

"Call me Drizzt," Drizzt answered dully, suddenly feeling very tired. He didn't know why, but his entire body felt drained of all energy. He wanted nothing more than to lie down right then and there and sleep for a week. If only he could just doze off for a bit.

"Very well, Drizzt," Dumbledore replied with a smile. McGonagall started fidgeting nervously in her chair, but she stopped when Dumbledore gave her a pointed look. Turning his attention back to Drizzt, he said, "You look weary. Have your travels perhaps drained you?"

"Well," Drizzt started, for the first time since awakening in this strange place having to confront the question of how he got here, "I'm not entirely sure I _had_ travels. The last thing I remember was that my friends and I were fighting a…" He stopped speaking as he suddenly remembered his friends. Inside he was struggling with the thought that Bruenor and the other may have been killed in the explosion. Dumbledore regarded Drizzt stoically, saying nothing and most likely guessing what had happened—or a version of the truth anyway. McGonagall looked as if she had guessed the truth of it too and hung her head, merely looking at the floor in complete silence.

"I'm sorry," Drizzt finally whispered. "I'm just not sure if my friends are still alive or not."

"I understand," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "If you'd rather not speak of it, I have a spell that will allow me to read your mind after a fashion. It will force memories upon you that you may not wish to have brought to the surface, but I can perhaps sort this out for you." Drizzt sat stock-still, staring into Dumbledore's clear, blue eyes, regarding him cautiously. "Of course," Dumbledore assured him, "I would not do so without your permission." He continued to star at Drizzt for a few tense moments before Drizzt spoke.

"Okay, do as you will. Even if it does prove rather unpleasant, perhaps I will get some answers." Dumbledore nodded and produced a wand from his robes. Pointing the wand at Drizzt, he muttered an incantation and a bolt of what Drizzt assumed was lightning shot out at him. His first instinct was to dive aside and avoid the deadly looking thing. Yet, he found that he had complete faith in the man for his kindness thus far. As the bolt approached, time seemed to slow and Drizzt closed his eyes, serenely waiting for what was to come. He knew that some of his old memories of Menzoberranzan would surface, but he'd not expected what next he saw. It seemed as though he were living the last eighty years of his life in its entirety in a matter of minutes. He saw his childhood, his first meeting with Guenhwyvar13, and several others. One memory stopped his heart's pumping momentarily. The memory of his father Zaknafein14 falling into a pool of acid suddenly surfaced before his eyes. That had been the last time he had seen his father. The memories continued to flow. He saw Mooshie15 and heard that damning word from so long ago, "Drizzit!16" Next, he saw his meeting with Cattie-brie, Bruenor, Wulfgar, and Regis. He saw his battle with Akar Kessel17, his rival Artemis Entreri18, his adventures with his friends, and the many times they had saved him. All of this was laid out before him, seemingly tangible, and was gone in seconds. Then came the memories that Dumbledore was looking for. Drizzt saw for a second time the battle with the monster that may have killed his friends. The last thing he saw was Guenhwyvar flying into that Time Pool and then that intense light.

Drizzt's eyes popped open and he found that he was on his hands and knees on the floor, with McGonagall supporting him. He had a vague thought that it must have been her natural care for every living thing that had roused her to his side. He looked into her face and saw that she was sincerely concerned for his well-being, and he reached up to pat her hand in thanks. This movement seemed to remind McGonagall of her fear of the hated black elf and she drew back with a horrified look. Drizzt gave a sigh of resigned acceptance of this treatment and pulled himself to his feet. He expected to see Dumbledore sitting in his chair rigidly, face white and blood-drained from what he had seen in Drizzt's memories of Menzoberranzan. What he saw instead was a very calm Dumbledore, gazing down his crooked nose at Drizzt and stroking his long, white beard thoughtfully.

Drizzt dragged himself back into the color-shifting chair slowly and sat with his head in his hands for several long minutes. When at last he looked back to Dumbledore, he found the man sitting in the same spot, his expression unchanged. Drizzt glanced at McGonagall quickly and saw her sitting quite still. She sat straight-backed with her right hand, the one Drizzt had touched, palm up on her lap. Her eyes were shut tightly and the only movement about her was her lips moving silently as she muttered something so softly that not even Drizzt's keen drow's ears could make it out. Suddenly he was very angry with these two.

"Well?" Drizzt said with as much contempt as he dared. He appreciated Dumbledore's kindness toward him, but he was quite aggravated at having been put through what he had just experienced without receiving answers in return.

"You are quite the fighter, Drizzt," Dumbledore replied smoothly. "I'm sure it is something to see outside of your memories." Drizzt felt his hands clench into fists at this remark. He was a good fighter? Of course he was a good fighter! He excelled in the task! How else would he have been able to survive all those years in the Underdark? But that had nothing to do with what he wanted to know! He waited rather impatiently for a few moments, his teeth nearly gnashing. He was expecting more from the other, but it didn't come. Finally, Drizzt spoke, not being able to hold out any longer.

"That's not what I meant!" Drizzt said forcefully, not caring that his irritation and anger were evident in his tone. "Did you discover anything that may have given you an indication of why I'm here and where my friends are or not?"

"Ah, yes of course," Dumbledore replied smoothly, completely unconcerned by Drizzt's outburst. "From what I've seen I'd say that somehow your world merged with ours." McGonagall made a small sound and then fell silent again. "If my guess is correct, then there is another plane of existence out there somewhere that is your world minus a drow, two humans, a dwarf, a halfling, and a magical panther. A fascinating creature, that. Would you perhaps like to show her to me?" Drizzt was taken aback slightly at this. So his friends were here somewhere, but where? He reached into his belt pouch slowly and produced the figurine of the panther and placed it on the desk.

"Could you call her for me to see?" Dumbledore asked anxiously. Drizzt could see that he was excited. He seemed as a little boy about to receive a wondrous gift.

"I will in a moment, but how did our worlds merge? And if just my friends and I were thrown into your world, how do you all know of Lady Alustriel? She is from my world." Drizzt was very confused by all this. He was not even sure that he would understand when given an explanation. McGonagall gasped suddenly and exclaimed loudly.

"You dare to speak the Lady Alustriel's name? You are an evil creature with no such privileges!" she shrieked in indignation.

"Minerva," Dumbledore warned and she quieted yet again. "Now then, Drizzt, about how it happened. I imagine that some of Guenhwyvar's magical traits reacted oddly with that Time Pool, causing it to explode and merge our worlds. As for how we know of Lady Alustriel, it is quite simple. Just as there is a plane of existence out there that you call your world, so too is ours elsewhere. Though, I doubt that anything is missing from ours." Noticing the befuddled look on Drizzt's face he continued. "Allow me to explain this more fully. You see, when Guenhwyvar was pushed into that Time Pool by Aegis-Fang, it caused something to go off and this world was created. It would seem that things from both worlds were brought into this one. It is my belief that my own plane originally had no such creatures as orcs, gnolls19, or goblins. As well, you may find certain persons here that you know but do not recognize you, perhaps that Artemis Entreri fellow. He's a right nasty one, eh?" Drizzt thought he understood somewhat, but there were still a few questions nagging at him.

"If that's true, then how am I able to remember everything from my original plane, and know nothing of this one?"

"That I am not sure of. In fact, your guess is as good as mine on that matter." Dumbledore gave a slight shrug and his eyes darted to the small figurine on the edge of his desk. Drizzt noticed this and knew that he wanted to see Guenhwyvar, but Drizzt wasn't quite satisfied just yet.

"One more question, and then I'll call Guen," Drizzt said. Dumbledore nodded and Drizzt drew a deep breath then asked, "How do you know all of this if you had no prior knowledge of me, or my plane or anything outside of this plane? How would you know what caused this or that some people here may not recognize me though I know them clearly as enemy or friend?" Dumbledore smiled warmly.

"A lucky guess perhaps? Though it would probably rest more squarely on the fact that I have taken courses in such things, if not your particular case." Again, his eyes darted to the figure on his desk.

"All right," Drizzt answered the unspoken request, "I'll call Guen now." He took the panther statuette from the desktop and set it down on the spacious floor of the office, silently calling across the planes to Guenhwyvar in her Astral home. He waited patiently as that familiar mist-like smoke rose around the office. He noticed Dumbledore's eyes wide with anticipation and McGonagall's with horror. Several seconds passed and when the smoke finally cleared, all that was to be seen was the small statue standing on the floor in the same position that Drizzt had placed it in. Drizzt felt as if someone had just dropped a large boulder into the pit of his stomach. For one of the first and few times in his life, Drizzt felt tears forming in his eyes. He'd been afraid of this. He knew it had been rather hopeless to try and call Guen, but he had fooled himself into thinking she hadn't been killed.

"I was afraid of this," Dumbledore sighed heavily. Drizzt merely glanced at him angrily. His best friend was dead and this man acted as if her life were less important than his opportunity to study her. He was reminded of the Harpells in Longsaddle who had, despite their acceptance, made Drizzt feel just as much the outcast with their questions and studies as had everyone who had ever turned on Drizzt because of the color of his skin. "I have some good news and some bad news," Dumbledore said to him after a few moments of silent pondering. McGonagall, though relieved that she would not have to meet whatever would have come from that figurine, looked as if she at least held sympathy for Drizzt, if nothing else in the way of compassion. "Which do you want first?" Dumbledore asked. Drizzt didn't care. Whatever the man considered good news certainly could not hearten the drow now that Guenhwyvar was dead. When he said nothing, Dumbledore continued.

"If my assumption is correct, the good news is that Guenhwyvar is still alive." Drizzt's head snapped up so fast that he wouldn't be surprised had he hurt his neck. Guen was still alive? "The bad news," Dumbledore continued before Drizzt could get a word in, "is that there is no telling where she is. When the worlds merged, Guenhwyvar's home, the Astral Plane20, merged with it. Now, I'm only guessing, but I believe Guenhwyvar is out there somewhere in this world, searching for you." Drizzt felt a renewed surge of hope. Guen was alive somewhere, as were his friends. He had to get to searching right away. Standing, he grabbed the small statue by his feet and headed for the door, speaking as he went.

"I thank you for the answers that you have given me and for your generosity," he said without looking back at Dumbledore. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a few golden coins, tossing them onto a short stand by the door. "However, I must be off now. If everything that you have told me is true, then my friends are out there somewhere and I have to find them." He reached out for the knob of the door and was suddenly back in the color-shifting chair. Dumbledore smiled warmly at him for about the hundredth time since he had met the man.

"I'm sorry, Drizzt, but I cannot allow you to leave just yet. As you know, I saw into your memories and glimpsed your ability to fight. I have a request of you." Drizzt merely stared at him, growing angry again. While he sat here listening to this man speak, his friends were wandering around out there. Perhaps they were in danger. Reading the expression on Drizzt's face, Dumbledore reassured him. "I'll have a search party sent to find your friends first thing tomorrow morning." Drizzt stared at him a bit longer and then nodded, succumbing to the logic of the promise. Dumbledore began to speak again, having calmed Drizzt's mind. "Now, your skills with the blades that you wear are like nothing that can been seen in these parts. There is only one man that I have ever seen who could fight as you do. His name is Tom Riddle, but he calls himself Lord Voldemort. You see, Tom was killed years ago by a boy called Harry Potter. When Tom tried to kill Harry, the curse rebounded and killed him instead, marking Harry with a lightning scar on his forehead. Yet, two years ago, Voldemort was reincarnated, and now he gathers more strength with each passing day. Information coming from our spies and our agents tells us that he gathers an army even as we speak. As of the last report brought to me yesterday, his numbers are more than one thousand of orcs, goblins, gnolls, and all such vile creatures. Within the month, his numbers are expected to be double that with reinforcement from the frost giants of the north. His goal is surely no less than rule of the world, and if he is not stopped the world will be at his mercy." Drizzt studied his hands silently, already guessing at the man's request. A thousand was a lot of foes and if Dumbledore was correct then getting through that would be the lesser of his problems. Drizzt had come across only two others who could match his own skill. One was Artemis Entreri, and the other was his father Zaknafein Do'Urden. If this Lord Voldemort were as skillful with blades as Dumbledore had said, then he would be Drizzt's biggest obstacle.

A small cough from McGonagall brought Drizzt out of his reverie. He gazed into Dumbledore's blue eye for a few moments before, "You want me to kill him for you." It was not a question, but a statement of recognition of the other's intent. Dumbledore nodded slightly.

"In a sense," the white-bearded man said slowly, "but not alone. You see, before he was killed, Voldemort tried to conquer the world via a massive army such as the one he is building now. During that time, Hogwarts offered a course that taught students to use a weapon in physical combat. Our magic has no effect on goblinoids, giants, and other such villainous things, so it was necessary to defeat them through physical combat instead. When Voldemort was killed, we stopped offering the course thinking we would have no need for it. However, I fear the worst and we will definitely have need of such a course once again." McGonagall gasped in terror, heaving caught on to Dumbledore's plan. Drizzt knew now as well what the headmaster's request was, but the longer he stayed here, the more time he wasted in finding his friends. "I assure you, Drizzt, that your friends will be found and brought here. With such fighting prowess and marksmanship as Bruenor, Cattie-brie, and Wulfgar hold, they would make an excellent addition to our own army." He paused a moment to consider something, then continued on. "All of the weapons and any other supplies needed will be provided for you. Everything you would need to teach a school of nearly three hundred students to become efficient fighters will be at your disposal." Drizzt considered this a few moments. It seemed simple enough. If he taught these students to fight, not only would he be giving this world some hope against its predator, but also he would not need to search for his friends. Others would do that for him.

"How many…exactly and how old?" Drizzt asked finally, studying his boots. He had succumbed to Dumbledore's request before the man had finished, but he would not teach those that were too young.

"You would be teaching only third years and up, but I'm not sure…Minerva," Dumbledore prompted. The grayed woman took out her wand and flicked her wrist causing several pieces of parchment to appear on her lap. She began fumbling through the papers nervously.

"Well, the youngest would be thirteen years and the oldest eighteen," she said briskly, never daring to so much as glance at Drizzt from the corner of her eye. "As to how many…with all houses included, minus first and second years…" She did the tallying mentally. Drizzt could tell she didn't like the idea of him being a professor, but she obeyed Dumbledore's orders without question, putting complete trust in the man. "There would be exactly three hundred twenty-eight students." She looked up at Dumbledore expectantly, who nodded and turned his own gaze upon the black-skinned elf before his desk.

"The age," Drizzt began, "I have no problems with. Any younger and I would have refused. However, there is no way I can turn that many people into fighters sufficient enough to meet your needs. Not to mention, I don't think you've got a room large enough to accommodate that many kids wielding weapons."

"Oh, heavens no," Dumbledore replied, "you would be teaching three two and a half hour long sessions every day. Half of the students on one day, and half the other." Drizzt did some math mentally. That was fifty-four students per session, with one session of fifty-five per day. That was still quite a few, but he could handle it. He pondered this a little more before he finally spoke.

"All right," Drizzt said, looking at Dumbledore. The man's face lit up visibly, but Drizzt continued before he could say anything. "However, the students will follow all of my rules without question. If they do not, they will be punished. And nothing else can interfere. If they have something else at a time I wish to work with them individually, the other will have to wait." Dumbledore nodded, glancing to McGonagall who gave an exasperated sigh.

"Headmaster, as much as we need someone to teach the students to fight, we cannot possibly meet these demands." McGonagall looked as if she were about to explode. "I for one would not stand for my students missing Transfiguration for it." Again, Dumbledore nodded.

"I think we can satisfy everyone easily enough, Minerva. Drizzt, you may not take more than one student from a class per day, and you may not take a student from any one class twice in a row, and you may not take any student from more than one class per day." Drizzt nodded. He generally preferred full control of his students, but it would do. "Minerva, the professors will not complain about Drizzt's actions unless they violate the guidelines that have clearly been stated here, and any student missing a class will make it up on the following weekend or after dinner at the professor's discretion. Does that suit you?" McGonagall gave a short, curt nod. She didn't like it any more than the proposal Drizzt had given, he could tell. Yet, she seemed ready enough to accept it as inescapable.

"Good," Dumbledore beamed at the two of them, "now if you will escort our newest faculty member to the Room of Requirement, Minerva. That will be your classroom and your quarters, Drizzt." He gave Drizzt a wink. "It's a wondrous place." McGonagall stood with another sigh and Drizzt followed. He turned to follow her out of the door and noticed several pictures lining the wall. They were all glaring at him menacingly and conversing in hushed tones. Some of the occupants of the picture would occasionally walk out of their own frame and into another next to it. Drizzt's scimitars flew into his hands as his instincts began to surface. He was on the verge of lunging at the portraits when a hand plopped onto his shoulder.

"Fear not, Drizzt. They cannot hurt you. Nor would they hurt you if given the chance. In this world, the pictures are able to move about from frame to frame." Drizzt turned his head to find Dumbledore smiling at him in amusement. McGonagall, who had turned just in time to see Drizzt's scimitars flash out of their sheaths, paled visibly and leaned against the door to steady herself. Drizzt was rather embarrassed. If the woman had feared him before, now she suspected Drizzt would hack her to pieces at any moment.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Drizzt muttered as he slid his scimitars back into their sheaths quickly

"Pay no heed to it," Dumbledore replied. "It could have happened to anyone." Drizzt nodded rather meekly. If he'd been lighter skinned the other two would have seen him flush crimson from head to foot. "Minerva, you two should probably be on your way. You look tired. Once you've shown Drizzt how to use the Room of Requirement, I want you to go straight to bed." McGonagall's face began to regain color in little splotches. She nodded and then opened the door with a shaking hand and left the office. Drizzt followed without a word.

As the two walked through the empty corridors, Drizzt following six paces behind, Drizzt's mind raced. He wasn't getting off on a very good start with the woman. Somehow, he had to make her see that he was not evil. Normally he would not have cared what she thought, but he would have to be around her nearly every day and if she thought him likely to kill her, it would be a most unpleasant experience for the both of them. McGonagall led Drizzt to a set of stairs and began to move upward. Once again, he paused to stare at the moving staircases in wonder. Then he was off after McGonagall again. The pair went up seven floors as near as Drizzt could guess. Then McGonagall led him down another corridor.

"So, you teach the students here how to successfully use a Transfiguration spell?" Drizzt dared to ask. From his position he saw the woman give a small, short nod. "Look, I'm sorry about back in Dumbledore's office. I was caught off guard and my instinct told me that I was in danger." McGonagall said nothing and made no movement in answer. Drizzt was about to try another question, but the woman stopped, suddenly at a dead end and pointed to the wall to her left.

"There it is," McGonagall said. "That's where the Room of Requirement is." Drizzt searched, for the second time that evening, for a door. Perhaps there was a secret door like that of Mithril Hall21. If that was the case, then the door had to be tapped with a magical weapon. He was about to draw his magical scimitar, Icingdeath, when McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh and marched up to him.

"Look," she said in irritation, her fear apparently forgotten for the time, "do you see those tapestries there?" She pointed to the two tapestries, brilliantly colored, hanging on the wall. Drizzt studied them closely, thinking she meant they were the door, or at least a key to the door. "Walk back and forth in front of those tapestries thinking of what you need and a door will appear there between the tapestries." Drizzt nodded slowly. He thought he understood well enough to work the thing.

"Thank you," he said to McGonagall with a sincere smile. He fear suddenly came back in a rush. She flinched back from his smile then gave another short nod and hurried back the way they had come. Drizzt stood there for a while staring at the wall where the door was supposed to be. If he had been anyone else, he would have thought the idea of such a room a foul prank to make the monstrous drow seem an ass. However, he had seen many things in his years and trusted Dumbledore completely.

Drizzt began to pace back and forth in front of the two tapestries. _I need a room large enough to accommodate at least fifty-six people with weapons,_ Drizzt thought. _It needs to have a weapons cabinet and everything I need to turn students into efficient fighters._ He glanced at the wall and rather got a shock when he saw an eight-foot door where there had been naught but bare stone wall before. Tentatively, he opened the door and entered the room. He got another shock when he saw what was beyond that door. Not only was the room nearly twice the size he had originally thought it would be, but along each wall there was an assortment of armor, weapons, and other battle apparatus. It was enough equipment to outfit every soldier in Silverymoon twice over with some to spare. On one wall he found a small bookshelf filled with book on strategic combat. He began reading one of them and realized that nearly everything in the book was what he had been taught by his father Zaknafein when he himself had learned to fight as a young drow. _Now if I only had a separate room to sleep in,_ he thought as he replaced the book on the shelf he had taken it from. _Maybe if I had a large bedroom with a soft bed_… Suddenly a door appeared next to the bookshelf across the room.

"So that's how it works," Drizzt mused aloud. Apparently in this room when one needed something, one need only think of their need and it was there. Striding to the door, he opened it and gazed beyond. The interior of this room was similar to the first without all of the shelves and weaponry. This room instead, held only a few torches, a small table, a single unremarkable chair, and a large canopy bed. On the inside of the door was a deadbolt to lock it against intruders. Drizzt closed the door behind him and locked it. He then tore off his cloak and blades and plopped down onto the bed without bothering to even take off his boots. He groaned softly as he let the bed's incredible softness absorb his weariness in part. Slowly he laid back and closed his eyes, trying vainly to find the much needed rest of deep slumber. However, despite the lack of energy he had, he knew that he would find no sleep this evening. His day had been too exciting, and frustrating as well. Standing, he scooped up his weapons, threw on his cloak and swept out the door.

As he walked back through the "training room" a pendant caught his eye. The small amulet was hanging on a peg in one of the weapons cabinets. It looked as though it were made of onyx and it was shaped like the head of a growling panther. When he stopped to examine the thing, it began to emanate a darkness greater than that even of his own magical globe of darkness. He slipped it off of its peg and held it before him. He wondered vaguely, as the thing pulled him into it mystically as it twirled, if perhaps it was such a thing as Regis the halfling's ruby pendant22. Perhaps this had the power to entrance anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in its gleam and make them susceptible to suggestions, even those that might endanger one's life. Pulling his gaze from it he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked it inside of his shirt, away from prying eyes. Then he left the Room of Requirement.

Harry awoke with a start and jolted upright. As he had suspected, he'd had a dream about Voldemort. This time the man had been gathering an army of goblinoids and giants. Harry shivered at the thought. He, like everyone else in the entire world, hated goblins with a passion. He had heard tales of dwarves from Adbar going to war with the vile creatures for no more reason than one of their scouts had been spotted on Adbar territory. Yet, that thought didn't lighten his mood at all. Beside Voldemort he had seen what he had feared he would. He had seen a drow elf standing next to Voldemort as an equal. Harry hadn't been able to see the drow's face in detail, but he knew it was a drow beyond any doubts that ay have surfaced in his mind. He knew that he would never be able to sleep now, so he scrambled out of bed, down the stairs to the common room and plopped into a chair before the smoldering remains of what had previously been a roaring blaze.

On the side table next to him, he found a sheet of paper, and a quill and ink bottle. He hadn't gotten the chance to write Sirius for a long time and so turned the chair to face the table. Quickly he wrote a letter to Sirius using the quill and ink bottle next to he parchment. When he had finished he read over the letter quickly to make sure he had included everything he wanted to say.

_Dear Snuffles,_

_We had a bit of excitement toady. First day back and not only is Malfoy already starting in on my friends and I, but something weird happened. We were eating dinner when the caretaker came in to speak with Dumbledore. Shortly after Dumbledore told us that a drow had been found in a third floor corridor unconscious. What do you make of this?_

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

Satisfied that the letter was sufficient, Harry rolled up the parchment and tied it quickly with a piece of string he found in the table's drawer. He then dashed up to his dorm, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map and zoomed back down to the common room and out through the portrait hole. He looked at the Marauder's Map and found that only Snape was standing between himself and the owlery, yet Snape was enough trouble to keep him on his toes. Had he been looking closely, he would have noticed another dot in the vicinity of the owlery. A dot that was labeled with a name he did not know.

Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and sprinted through the castle. He managed to make it through the halls and up to the owlery with little incident, seeing Snape only once and getting by him before the Potions Master suspected even the slightest thing to be out of the ordinary. Several minutes later he was climbing into the owlery with his letter in hand. Once there, he took off his Invisibility Cloak and called out to Hedwig, his snow owl. He scanned the rafters briefly with his eyes and then looked to the perches all about him at about chest level. When he found no signs of his beloved owl, he called out again, a little louder this time. "Hed…" he whispered into the darkness. There was a flutter of wings and feathers and suddenly Hedwig was lighting on a perch next to Harry's head. Hurriedly he tied the letter to her leg and carried her to the window.

He instructed the owl as to where the letter was to be delivered and released her. After she had gone, Harry stood at the window, feeling the cool night breeze on his face. He loved that feeling. He didn't know how long he had been standing there, but when he turned to leave, he noticed a movement out on the roof of the owlery. He leaned further out to get a better look at whatever it was, thinking it to be an owl or some other large bird, and found himself mere inches from a drow elf. He gave a startled yelp, pulling the drow's attention to him, and scrambled away from the window. H had turned to run away, but Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, blocked his path and he tripped over her. When he had regained enough composure to roll onto his back, the drow had already come through the window and was now advancing on Harry wearing a huge smile that Harry took to be delight that he had found easy prey. Harry began to crawl backwards, never taking his eyes off of the drow, but soon found his back to a wall. As the drow neared, Harry shut his eyes tight, muttering a prayer to Mielikki23, the goddess of the ranger, and his personal favorite deity. _What's the matter?_ Ron's voice taunted in the back of his mind. _I thought the thing wasn't going to hurt anyone._ Harry held his eyes shut tight for what seemed an eternity, waiting some blade or another to pierce through his heart, but the pain never came.

When Harry opened his eyes, he found the drow standing over him, his lavender eyes glinting eerily in the waning moonlight. He had a black-skinned hand outstretched to Harry as if to help him to his feet. Harry took the hand tensely and pulled himself off of the ground with the other's help. Despite his slight frame, Harry could feel the drow's strength in his hand. He brushed himself off quickly and then looked up at the figure before him. The drow was rather short and wore a black cloak with the hood back, and commoner's clothes. At his waist were two sheathed weapons and a belt pouch.

"Thank you," Harry offered meekly.

"Think nothing of it," the drow replied, completely surprising him in his ability to speak the common tongue. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden." Harry saw his eyes flit quickly, barely noticeable, to the scar on his forehead. "You must be Harry. The Headmaster told me all about you." Harry nodded with a sigh.

_Great,_ he thought sourly, _another adoring fan._ Drizzt must have been able to read his thoughts, or at least his expression, because he smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder.

"Do not worry," he grinned, "I won't worship the ground you walk on. I know what it is to be considered different than everyone else." Harry flinched at the hand on his shoulder and looked into Drizzt's face. He expected to see sadness, but instead he saw a wide smile greeting him. He suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for the other overriding his fear and apprehension. Yet, Drizzt was a drow, and he didn't seem too concerned. Rejection must be commonplace in his life, so he must be used to it by now. Harry stared at him for a moment then shrank back in fear after realizing just what was standing before him.

"Don't worry, Harry," Drizzt assured him hurriedly, "I won't hurt you. My people are passionless murderers, but I am not." Again, Harry nodded and swallowed difficultly, as his throat was parched.

"I, er…I," Harry stammered anxiously, wishing to be away from Drizzt, "I should get back to bed." Drizzt withdrew his hand from Harry's shoulder and smiled once again.

"Of course, you have a big day tomorrow." Harry merely shrugged nervously and with one more fearful glance into Drizzt's purple orbs, flew out the door, not bothering to cover himself with the Invisibility Cloak. Harry dared not sop running until he was back in Gryffindor Tower, lest Drizzt change his manner and treat Harry as prey. Once safely in the common room, Harry plopped heavily into his favorite chair near the fireplace and dozed off within seconds to dream of Voldemort and black elves.

FOOTNOTES

1. Hosttower of the Arcane—this is a tower of arcane magic in Faerun. Many aspiring mages come here to study the black arts.

2. Luskan—a large city whose main landmark is the Hosttower of the Arcane.

3. Menzoberranzan—a small drow city of the Underdark. Drizzt grew up in the eighth house of Menzoberranzan.

4. Underdark—the line of interconnecting tunnels below the surface of the planet. It is usually very hot there. It is also the homeland of the drow and many other races and monsters.

5. Silverymoon—one of the grandest cities in all the forgotten realms. It is the most diverse city to be found and very accepting of all.

6. Lady Alustriel—ruler and wizard of Silverymoon. She is one of Drizzt's greatest friends and often mistaken as his lover.

7. Citadel Adbar—until Bruenor reclaimed Mithril Hall, Adbar was the world's strongest dwarven stronghold.

8. King Harbromme—human ruler of Citadel Adbar. He is not very well like by the dwarves of the stronghold, but is popular among the humans.

9. passionless…like his people—Drizzt's kin, the drow, often kill with no passion. They kill just because they love to kill. Drizzt is not like that.

10. Harpells—a group of wizards that are very odd and more often than not hurt themselves when casting a spell.

11. Longsaddle—magical home of the Harpells. Few visit there because the eccentric wizards are not well liked.

12. mages—Snape's rage is founded well here. In this new world, magical people do not hide their identities. However, those that call themselves mages are evil and use their power only to gain for themselves and to rule over those with no magic. The wizarding folk are good and fight for justice and selflessness.

13. Guenhwyvar—a magical panther that is summoned via a figurine in form of a panther. She is Drizzt's most trusted friend and battle companion. She cannot be killed unless she is on the Astral Plane, her home.

14. Zaknafein—Drizzt's father from Menzoberranzan and the one who taught Drizzt to fight. He was one of only two who could match Drizzt's skill with blades and he died to save Drizzt's life.

15. Mooshie—a friend that Drizzt met upon first coming to the surface. Mooshie taught Drizzt the value of the ranger.

16. Drizzit—once Drizzt tried to communicate with a small boy from the surface, telling him his name. The boy heard the word "Drizzit" and screamed out in terror. Later the boy was found dead. The memory has haunted Drizzt since.

17. Akar Kessel—a man who gained unbelievable power and tried to kill the friends from Icewind Dale. He failed.

18. Artemis Entreri—an assassin from a city far distant to the place Drizzt now calls his home. However, the assassin is one of only two people to ever match Drizzt's ability with blades. He is obsessed with beating Drizzt in a fair fight to prove that he is the stronger.

19. gnolls—dog-like creatures that walk upright on two legs. They are usually very tall and very strong. They hunt in packs and are quite relentless.

20. Astral Plane—there are many planes of existence. The Astral Plane is one of them. Guenhwyvar resides there unless the possessor of the black figurine has summoned her, whence she comes to the Material Plane.

21. Mithril Hall—home and kingdom of Bruenor Battlehammer, one of Drizzt's most trusted friends. A dragon named Shimmergloom from a different plane had once taken Mithril Hall, but Drizzt and company killed the dragon and defeated the other inhabitants of the mines, taking the halls back.

22. Regis…pendant—Regis, the halfling, possesses a small ruby pendant that, when twirled about in front of one, captures the onlooker in its gleam with a magical entrancing power. The onlooker is then very susceptible to any suggestions made by the wielder of the pendant.

23. Mielikki—the goddess of the ranger. Drizzt personally follows Mielikki and in this plane, Harry prefers her to any of the other deities he has met.


	4. Chapter 3: Stupidity Comes Standard

**Chapter 3: Stupidity Comes Standard**

When Harry woke up, he found Ron standing over him shaking him rather violently to wake him. Oddly enough Harry hadn't dreamed at all, and he was peeved at Ron for having woken him from such a peaceful slumber. "What is it?" Harry asked grumpily. He glanced to the window and noticed that it was light outside. "Oh, hell!" he exclaimed, leaping from the chair he'd slept in.

"We're going to be late for breakfast, Harry!" Ron said loudly to Harry's back as he rushed to the boys' dorms. He sounded rather worried, and rightly so because today they got their schedules. Harry stopped and turned back to Ron with one foot on the bottom stair leading up to the boys' dorms.

"_We_ won't be late," he told Ron. "_I_ will be late. Go on, I'll meet you down there." Ron nodded and turned to exit through the portrait hole, but stopped and turned back to Harry.

"I'm sorry about last night," Ron apologized. "I was just..."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said quickly. "Just get going or you'll be late too." Again Ron nodded and Harry raced up the stairs, not waiting to see if Ron was going. He showered as quickly as he could manage and threw on his robes then grabbed his wand and book bag and anything else he would need then rushed down the stairs to the common room and out of Gryffindor Tower. Five minutes later he plopped down at the Gryffindor table next to Ron, completely out of breath. Hermione sat across the table from him and she frowned at him with her fork half-raised to her mouth.

"You sent a letter last night, didn't you?" she accused. Harry stared at her, mouth agape. How the hell did she do that? It seemed like she always knew when he had been breaking school rules.

"How did you...?" he started to ask. He glanced to Ron, who merely shrugged and shoved a piece of sausage into his mouth.

"Simple, but Ron had nothing to do with it," Hermione shrugged. "I know you hardly get to send letters over the summer and would therefore be eager to write to Snuffles. So, I put the parchment and ink and quill on that table next to your favorite chair." She gave a self-satisfied and very smug smile.

"Weh," Ron said, mouth full of food, "it cou've bin sumun ols dat oosed da pochment." Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste at his manners.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Ron," she scolded him. Quickly he swallowed the food in his mouth.

"I said it could've been someone else that used the parchment," Ron repeated more clearly now that nothing was obstructing his words.

"Yeah," Harry said, suddenly indignant, "how do you know it wasn't someone else?" He nearly glared across the table at her.

"Because, you bonehead," Hermione sighed, "you were sitting in front of the fire with the Invisibility Cloak in your lap." She took a sip of her juice and frowned at him. "You're lucky that I got to the common room before anyone else or they might have stolen the cloak, or worse, reported it to McGonagall." Harry suddenly realized that the cloak hadn't been with him when Ron had woken him. He had forgotten about it in his rush to get to breakfast. He assumed that Hermione had it now. He saw Ron roll his eyes, but he had to admit that Hermione was good. No one else would have thought to leave a trap for him.

Harry's stomach growled rather loudly, reminding him that he was hungry, and he started to pile eggs, bacon, sausage, and other foods onto his plate. He peered around, trying to decide what he wanted to drink and noticed a boy sitting at the end of the table that he didn't recognize. The boy was about six feet tall with a fairly muscular build. He had rather long, curly, brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing what Harry recognized as headphones that were attached to a portable CD player. He had never used one because they were so expensive, but Dudley had on. He was surprised to see a magical person taking part in technology. Most, if not all, magical persons mistrusted technology, relying on their own magical abilities rather than a device such as this boy had. The boy was shaking his head about wildly, his fair flying every which way, as he mouthed the words to whatever song he was listening to. Harry's brows drew together in consternation. He knew everyone beyond year one in Gryffindor by face and name, yet here was a boy whose identity eluded him. Perhaps he was just another first year, though Harry doubted it because he hadn't seen the boy at the Sorting Ceremony last night. Besides that, the other looked much too old to be a first year.

"Who is that boy at the end of the table?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione without taking his eyes off of the boy.

"I don't know," Hermione replied as she turned tot he brown-haired boy as well. Ron hadn't even heard the question, being too engrossed in a discussion about whether fruit cake was good or not with Dean and Seamus. Harry shrugged and started filling his mouth with food. He would figure this mystery out later, but right now he was hungry. Harry cleaned his plate within minutes, pick it up and licking it in an attempt to get every morsel of food. He looked up at Hermione when she "Humph"-ed in distaste and set the plate down. He then picked up his glass and tilted his head back, draining the last of the grape juice he had settled on.

Harry glanced to the professors' table and noticed that Dumbledore was standing. Immediately the Great Hall was completely silent with the exception of the CD player of the boy at the end of the table. It was blasting some type of hard-core rock and roll into his ears that, despite the headphones being on the boy's head, reverberated off the walls of the Great Hall. Students from every house sat staring at Dumbledore, anxiously awaiting news of the drow, who Harry now knew to be name Drizzt Do'Urden. For about the fiftieth time this morning, Harry wondered about Drizzt. Why was he being allowed to roam free through the castle if he was so dangerous? Someone nudged the boy at the end of the table and he took his headphones off and, realizing what was going on, quickly shut the device off.

"Welcome back, all," Dumbledore said now that he had everyone's attention, "and welcome to our newest students. I know your housemates will make you feel at home." There was a murmur at the tables as the upper-year students assured the first-years of the truth in the headmaster's words. "Also, I would like Gryffindor to please welcome your newest housemate, Mr. Riff Strite." Harry looked at Ron with a confused expression, then to Hermione, but both seemed just as clueless about the matter as he. Then something dawned in his mind and he glanced to the end of the table to see the new boy standing, CD player in hand, headphones about his neck, and a wide grin playing on his lips.

"Hiya," Riff greeted merrily, "it's a pleasure to meet you folks."

"Mr. Strite," Dumbledore began again, regaining everyone's attentions, "has just transferred here from America. He is in his sixth year."

Harry turned to Ron again as Riff seated himself again. "Transferred," Harry mused, "can people really do that?" Ron shrugged. _Well isn't he just a load of help?_ Harry thought bitterly.

"It's very rare," Hermione answered his question from across the table. "Maybe once or twice every ten years or so. It's because no two schools of magic are alike. Some may require different courses or more years to graduate, but transfers do happen. Although, I don't think Hogwarts has had a transfer student from America in decades." She pursed her lips in thought and turned to stare at Riff as if she thought she could somehow probe his mind from this distance and find the answer to whatever question had arisen in her mind.

"Obviously," Ron said sarcastically. Hermione's head snapped back and her icy glare seemed to pierce right through him. She opened her mouth to say something biting to him, but Dumbledore's voice stopped her.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, "due to last evening's events, I believe I owe you all an annual speech, hmm? Again, welcome back and I am sure that you will all do quite well in your studies. As you all know, the Dark Forest is off limits to students and curfew is nine o'clock sharp. All visits to Hogsmeade are for the third year students and older only, and I hope that you've all brought your permission forms signed by a parent or guardian as you will not be allowed to visit Hogsmeade without them. Oh, and Fred, George..." He paused for a moment, looking the Weasley twins over with a wry smile. "Do try to stay out of trouble this year, hmm?" Several students chuckled, all knowing full well that Fred and George were likely to get into trouble just getting from one class to the next. The twins nodded and grinned widely. "Now for the big news. In a few moments your house heads will be passing out your schedules. All third year students and older will find a new course on their schedules, physical combat." Confused and excited whispers broke out though the Great Hall. Most wizards and witches, except for Harry it seemed, had had some sort of training in physical combat. Harry knew that the course had been offered at Hogwarts a long time ago, but no one had taught it at the school since Voldemort had vanished. Harry realized why the students were required to take the subject again. He had heard the rumors that Voldemort was gathering an army just like everyone else had. It was all the bloody _Daily Prophet_ mentioned of late. Until last year, no one had believed that Voldemort was back, but now all they ever did was caution against letting "the dark side overcome" and such rubbish as that. Frankly, Harry was quite sick of it. Dumbledore must want to make sure that the students could handle such an army as Voldemort's. And since orcs, goblins, giants and other humanoid creatures of the like had an innate immunity to magic, the only way to kill them was to defeat them in combat. Yet, such creatures couldn't come near Hogwarts. Due to a magical boundary around the grounds1 they were kept in the Dark Forest and elsewhere off of Hogwarts grounds. Besides that, Harry had no idea who would teach them to fight.

"I know you are all wondering who will be teaching the subject," Dumbledore grinned. "That is why I would like to introduce to you your newest professor." Harry's heart seized in fear as the doors of the Hall opened to admit a tall black-skinned figure with white hair and two scimitars belted at his waist that swayed with his steps. Harry remembered those scimitars from the evening before. He also remembered the air about Drizzt, the drow elf, that spoke of an extreme competence in the use of the deadly looking blades and hung thickly about the drow. "Please welcome Drizzt Do'Urden." Dumbledore began applauding as Drizzt sauntered through the door. The other professors merely glared, their apparent lack of fear telling Harry they already knew of it. Harry noticed the intense hatred burning in the eyes of the Divination professor, Azul Sobre. The students, for their part, were a whole different story. There was a sharp intake of air as every student gasped and held his or her breath. Every student, that is, except Harry, Riff, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy.

"That thing can't teach us to fight!" Draco whined into the silence. All the students turned to him. "It would kill us in a heart beat! Not to mention the fact that the ministry and my father will never allow it!" He looked around the Slytherin table at his housemates with a smug grin.

"Oh, shut the hell up, you god-damn moron!" Everyone turned simultaneously to see Riff standing and shaking his head with a look of sheer disgust on his face.

"Who are you to tell _me_ what to do, filthy mudblood?" Draco shot back. Laughter issued from the Slytherin table while all of the Gryffindors gasped in shock. The term mudblood was a term used to insult any wizard or witch that was not pure-blooded and everyone knew that it was of the highest offense to call another wizard that. Riff's hands balled into fists and Harry looked at the professors who were all sitting stock-still, staring at the two in disbelief. Dumbledore looked from one of the two to the other for a few moments and then began conversing in hushed tones with Drizzt as if nothing were happening at all.

"And just how would you know that I'm a mudblood, asshole?" Fire blazed in Riff's eyes as he glared at Draco heatedly. Harry didn't know Riff at all, but he was suddenly glad that Draco was across the room. He had the feeling that the blonde-haired boy would have been on the ground in a bloodied mess by now were it different.

"Well, what else would someone from America be?" Draco smirked. Harry hadn't thought it possible, but Riff's rage seemed to deepen as Draco's words acted as a pile of dead leaves would, making a fire flare brightly. The rest of the Gryffindors had apparently sensed the anger too, and were ready to either hold him back or jump in and help him. Everyone's fear of Drizzt' had been forgotten in the moment. Luckily, though, Riff stayed where he was.

"Better to be an American mudblood than a pure-blooded, sniveling, little coward. My god, you can't even stand the sight of a drow elf before you go running to daddy with some story of how the mean, old head master forced you to actually work at something. I've seen your type before. We've got loads of them back in the States. You like to talk big, but when push comes to shove you're the one hiding in the corner, not to be seen again until you can take credit for something that you had no part in." With every word Riff's anger seemed to diminish little by little. Harry sat in shocked silence with the rest of the students in the Hall. No one had ever heard anyone go off on Draco like that before. No one was brave enough to do so, for fear that he'd send his lackeys after them or set his father and the Ministry of magic after them. However, remarkable as it was, it was Draco's turn to be angry now.

"I'll not have my life placed in jeopardy by _him_!" Draco shrieked, pointing a long, accusing finger at Dumbledore. "Father will hear of this and that _thing_ will be put to death!"

"Jeopardy?" Riff said with a look of utter confusion on his face. He glanced at Dumbledore and then back to Draco. "Who's placed your life in jeopardy? Certainly not the headmaster. Near as I can figure, he's doing all of us a favor." He made a broad, sweeping motion that took in the whole of the Great Hall to indicate who "us" was exactly. "Now, I'm no genius. Hell, half the fucking time I can't get my spells to work right. But I know that Voldemort's been gathering an army of creatures that our magic can't hurt." The Great Hall as a whole flinched at the mention of Voldemort. "There's only one way we _can_ hurt those damn things and that's the beat the living hell out of them. Do you know how to fight that well? I sure as hell don't. Who better to teach us how to do that than him?" He jerked a thumb toward Drizzt who was still speaking with Dumbledore. "I mean, if what they say about drow is true, then he's got to be an excellent fighter. An just in case that's not enough for you, then you'll follow the drow's instructions because Dumbledore said so. I'm sorry if that ain't your cup of tea, but he's the headmaster and what he says goes. Deal!"

"Oh, so you're a friend of the drow?" Draco glared at Riff heatedly, then suddenly he smiled. He smiled as well as a slimy snake in the grass can smile anyway. "Are you an orc-lover too? You know, you kind of look like an orc." Riff's anger rushed back in a matter of seconds. Harry was on the edge of his seat, ready to jump into Riff's path if need be. But Draco was quite done just yet. "Or maybe your mother fucked an orc and out popped you. Yes, that's it I'll wager. Your father must've been an orc." This seemed to be the last straw, and before anyone could make a move to stop him, Riff was off across the Great Hall. He reached Draco just at the professors realized what was happening and had risen. Riff tackled Draco to the ground and commenced in punching him in the face repeatedly. It wasn't until now that Dumbledore apparently realized what was going on and stopped talking to Drizzt. Harry hadn't realized it, but he was on his feet, rushing toward Riff and Draco. The professors were all doing the same, but Drizzt got there first.

Pulling Riff off of Draco, Drizzt swung him around forcefully and shoved him at Harry and a few other students—Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws alike—who grabbed him and held him back from Draco with extreme effort. The boy was as strong as an ox and he was trying with all of his might to get back to Draco. When Harry looked, he saw Drizzt standing in front of Draco and Snape helping the other boy off of the ground. Draco's face was a bloodied mess, his nose seemed to be broken and a couple of his teeth were lying on the floor where he had spit them out. He spat a bit of blood on the marble floor and snarled at Riff. Seeing this, a new surge of strength rushed through his body and the students holding him back nearly lost their hold, but luck was with them.

"Don't you _ever_ speak of my mother, you slimy little piece of shit!" Riff screamed at Draco. Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore's voice boomed out before he got anything out.  
"Enough!" Dumbledore's normally placid tone had been replaced by stern reproach and anger. "Severus, take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. Mr. Strite, sit down or I will be forced to stun you." Riff stopped struggling and ripped his arms free from the ones holding him, his robes causing slight "rug burn" on their hands as it passed through. The students around him relaxed a bit. Harry could tell that Riff resented the headmaster for not letting him have another go at Draco. At this point, McGonagall stormed up to him and was just about to begin ranting at him about breaking school rules and such when the headmaster spoke again. "Professor, please...Mr. Strite, this is unacceptable. It is your first day and already you have managed to break school rules. You will serve two weeks of detention with the caretaker after dinner." Snape was just leading Malfoy out of the room, coincidentally past Riff, when the blonde-haired boy smirk through the blood on his face. McGonagall witnessed the act and grimaced.

"You will be joining him, Mr. Malfoy," she nearly spat. "Not only for your interrupting the headmaster, but also for your uncalled for and totally out-of-line comments to Mr. Strite." Draco's smirk was immediately wiped form his face only to have its place taken by a look of utter indignance and complete anger. Harry lead Riff back to the Gryffindor table as Snape and Draco exited the Great hall. Dumbledore looked at Drizzt then waved his wand to clear the blood that Draco had lost from the floor.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, returning to the front of the Hall, "Drizzt will be teaching you physical combat. You are all to follow his instructions as you would a normal professor. You need not fear for your safety. Drizzt will not hurt you, and just in case, we've placed a spell on him. If he attacks anyone who does not rightfully deserve it, he will feel immense pain so that he cannot think straight, much less fight. Now for your schedules." Again, Dumbledore went back to conversing with Drizzt as the House Heads began to circle around the tables handing out schedules.

Harry took his schedule from McGonagall tensely, praying that he had done poorly enough on his potions O.W.L. that he wouldn't have to endure Snape's lessons for another year. However, despite the potions master's hatred of Harry, he had double potions with the Slytherins this afternoon. He ran quickly down his list, letting out a groan at several of his classes, and found that he had Drizzt first this morning.

Ron's face held visible fear and anger at both having Drizzt first, and at having to take a class taught by the elf in the first place. Harry could tell that he would get an ear-full about the situation later and dared not tell Ron about his experience in the owelery the night before. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be interested in the matter.

"I guess that now we'll get to see whether Ron's fearsome drow is everything he's made out to be by the stories," she said lightly and a little mockingly to Ron. But the next moment she was declaring her outright disgust quite loudly at having to take Divination, her least favorite subject.

"I guess we will," Harry said under his breath as his heart started to thump wildly with nervousness. As soon as breakfast was over everyone began running to their classes. It was a short enough walk to the Room of Requirement. Nothing like the walk to Divination, thank Mielikki. When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived, they got quite a shock. They had expected that there be weapons and armor and shields and all sorts of things one would need for combat. After all, it was a class on physical combat. What they had not expected was to find a room nearly the size of the Great hall, every wall lined with weapons. Harry felt his jaw drop. Never had he imagined that such a collection of weapons existed. He saw whips, sword, halberds, pikes, axes, knives, maces, and about a dozen other weapons that he could identify—as well as about a dozen that he could not. At the far end of the room was a desk and a bookshelf filled with books. Next to the bookshelf was a wooden door, closed and most likely locked. Around the edge of the room sat cushions, but there were no desks or tables save for the one at the other end of the room.

Harry saw Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan motioning to them from cushions near the desk. Draco's friends sat on the other side of the room, but Draco wasn't with them. Harry smiled at that. "There's Dean and Seamus," Ron said, starting for the pair. Hermione followed after a quick glance at the bookshelf behind the desk. Most probably she wanted to go through those books. Harry took up the rear behind Hermione as a few other students started crowding into the room behind him. He took a seat next to Hermione and got out a quill, ink, and a scrap of parchment.

"Where's the professor?" Hermione asked aloud. As if her question had been a summons, the door next to the bookcase opened and Drizzt stepped out. Harry's eyes wandered to the curved blades belted at his waist. He had seen Voldemort kill Cedric with a blade like that not two years before. The man had whipped it from its scabbard and cut a clean line across Cedric's neck before Harry could so much as blink. The memory of Cedric's lifeless body lying there before Harry made him shudder slightly.

Drizzt's lavender orbs flitted quickly around the room, counting heads, and rested briefly on Harry before moving on. "Good morning," the ebon-skinned elf greeted with a smile. "You all know why you are here, so I have no reason to tell you what the course is about. We will begin learning the basics of combat soon, but first there are a few guidelines you must know." At that moment the door out into the corridor opened to admit Riff. Drizzt's eyes snapped onto the boy icily.

"Mr. Strite, you're late."

"I'm sorry Professor. I was..." Riff started, but Drizzt cut him off quickly.

"I did not ask for your excuses. Class starts at eight o'clock sharp. However, I'm in a good mood today and it's the first day, so I'll allow you this one transgression. Now take your seat and never let it happen again." Riff nodded and hurried to take the only empty seat on the Gryffindor side of the room—coincidentally right next to Harry—and began unpacking his supplies.

"Don't bother unpacking your things, Mr. Strite. They won't be needed. In fact, everyone needs to put everything away, including your wands. In most of the classes you'll be taking this year you will have to do book work or perform magic in order to receive a good mark. In this class you will have to prove to me that your combat skills are improving to earn them. After today all of your things besides the weapons issued to you will be left at the door when you enter this room. Is that understood?" A murmur ran around the room and several of the students nodded their heads. The initial fear of Drizzt had worn off in most of the students, but they were still fairly uncomfortable around him despite Dumbledore's spells and assurances of safety.

"Good...now as I was saying, there are guidelines that you must know. For one, never be late to this class. Punctuality is a sign of responsibility and discipline. Both are needed to correctly wield a weapon of any kind. Two, never speak out of turn. If you feel the need to talk to your neighbor, don't. If you need to ask a question, raise your hand." He glanced around the room quickly and his eyes came to rest upon Ron. "What is your name, boy?" Ron paled visibly when Drizzt spoke to him. Harry wondered if he would even be able to speak.

"Ron," Ron managed after a long moment's hesitation, "my name is Ron Weasley."

"All right, Mr. Weasley," Drizzt smiled, trying vainly to take the fear from Ron's face, "what are the first two rules I've given you?"

"Er...don't be late and don't talk out of turn?" Ron said it more like a question, as if her were not sure, than a statement of fact.

"Very good, Mr. Weasley," Drizzt praised him, "five points to Gryffindor. Now then, a few extras. You will address me as sir or Drizzt. I do not feel comfortable with this 'professor' title. Also, in a few moments you will be choosing your weapons. They have a few guidelines as well. So..." Drizzt paused a moment and looked around the room for about the tenth time. "How many of you have ever had any training in physical combat?" Slowly, tentatively, all but maybe five hands went into the air.

"Hmm..." Drizzt mused, "well whatever you've learned, forget it. There are two ways to approach physical combat. There's my way, and then there's the wrong way. It it's not my way, then it's wrong." Drizzt's head snapped around to the Slytherin side of the room where Draco's lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, were snickering rather loudly to themselves.

"You two," the ebon-skinned elf said, his eyes coming to rest lightly on the pair, "can you repeat what I just said?" Harry smiled faintly as the two boys cringed in fear when Drizzt said spoke to them. Simultaneously they shook their heads, saying nothing and making no noise. The students nearest them began to lower their eyes to the floor, trying very hard to seem insignificant so as not to bring Drizzt's wrath upon themselves as well.

"I didn't think so," Drizzt replied. Suddenly he walked to a weapons cabinet against one wall and grabbed a longbow and single arrow. He nocked and drew the bow and pointed it at Goyle in one swift motion. This time the students near him began to try and move away from him. Goyle himself threw his hands up into the air and Harry was about to say something to try and get Drizzt to calm down when he swung the bow and his body around to face the singular desk at the other end of the room. Letting the arrow fly, Drizzt swung the bow up over his shoulder and everyone watched as the arrow hit the edge of the desk and rebounded toward a sword hanging on the wall. Again the arrow struck and rebounded once again, this time back toward the elf. Before anyone could so much as blink, Drizzt had a scimitar out and had deflected the arrow straight up into a crack in the stone, where it sunk in to the mortar solidly.

Drizzt sheathed his blade and returned the bow to its cabinet then turned on Crabbe and Goyle again. Hushed whispers broke throughout the room about what had just transpired. No one really knew what to think about that.

"Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle," Drizzt began to smile brightly, "when you are able to repeat what I just did, move for move, then and only then will you be allowed to speak freely in my classroom. Ten points from Slytherin." Drizzt clapped his hands once and then intertwined his fingers. "Now that that is out of the way, it's time to choose your weapons. The only thing that you must remember when choosing a weapon is that the weapon must fit you and feel comfortable in your hands. As well, you must decide if you wish to fight using one weapon or two. Those interested in the two-weapon technique that I myself use will need extra lessons. It is rather a difficult technique to master and requires a lot of training and hard work. However, those interested in a single weapon my also use a shield unless that weapon is two-handed.

All students will be required to learn to use a short sword and longbow, but the choice of which weapon is actually used is completely up to you." Harry glanced around the room, noticing that nearly everyone else had already latched their eyes onto the weapon they would like choose. Looking at Riff sitting beside him, he noted that the other boy had not decided yet either. There were just so many things to choose from. Harry then turned to the door with the rest of the class as it opened once again, this time to admit Draco Malfoy. From all appearances, Draco was fine. All of his teeth were intact and his nose wasn't broken any more. _Behold the magic oh healing,_ Harry thought with a wry smirk.

Drizzt's icy gaze snapped onto Draco, his lavender orbs like two missiles seeking their target. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Drizzt said, this time without a smile, "so nice of you to decide to join us. Please, have a seat. And you can come see me again tonight after supper and sit in the same seat."

"What?" Draco spat indignantly. "You can't give me a detention. I've done nothing wrong."

"You were late." Drizzt stared at him placidly as Draco's mouth worked silently in rage. Harry felt his brows draw together in consternation. Why was Drizzt being so hard on Draco? Sure, he deserved it—the little prick—but Riff had been late as well.

"But I was in the hospital wing because of that mudblood!" Draco was practically screaming as he pointed an accusing finger at Riff. Harry felt Riff begin to shake beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I did not ask for your excuses. You were late to my class and I've just finished telling the class the rules that are to be followed—the first of which is to never be late. Since I don't quite feel like repeating myself at this time, you will see me after dinner to learn them, and with any luck, a bit of humility as well. Is that understood?" Draco merely glared hatred at Drizzt boldly—or perhaps stupidly, Harry thought—daring to meet Drizzt's gaze.

"Good," Drizzt said, returning Draco's glare with a serene calmness, "now take you seat and do not be late to my class again." Draco stood there still glaring at him, not moving, his blue eyes locked onto Drizzt's own purple orbs. "Well, would you like another detention?" Slowly, Draco broke away from what seemed to be a staring contest and made his way over to take the empty cushion between Crabbe and Goyle.

Drizzt stood where he was for a few moments, looking at the students around him before, "Any more interruptions?" We may as well get them out of the way now, because the real lessons are to begin in a while." When no one said anything he took one last glance around the room and turned and started for the door at the other end of the room, talking as he went. "Last rule: never, under any circumstances go into my personal chambers." He pointed to the door without slowing. "Choose your weapons now. This is one of the few times you will be allowed to speak freely. You have an hour to choose your weapon. Should you require my assistance, I'll be in my chambers. Knock on the door." With that he reached the door, pulled it open, and then disappeared through it, pulling it shut behind him.

Everyone sat stock-still for several seconds, hardly daring to believe that Drizzt had left them to their own devices. No professor had ever done that without a damn good reason. After about a minute had passed, Riff rose to his feet next to Harry and rubbed his hands together, his eyes locked on two swords hanging directly above Draco's head on the wall. Instantly chatter broke all throughout the room as the other students began to rise and move about. Riff started across the room toward the weapons he had chosen, but Draco—being closer and noting Riff's attention to the blades—got there first.

Harry noticed the gleam in Draco's eyes and the malicious smile that he sported as he stood and grabbed the swords before Riff could get to them. Harry then sighed as he noticed that familiar set to Draco's face. There was going to be a confrontation and it would most likely end up with Draco and Riff fighting again.

"Hey, you little punk," Riff growled, "those are mine." Draco looked at the swords with a confused expression, his eyes seeming to search for something.

"There swords are yours, you say?" Again, his eyes swept the blades. "That's interesting, because I don't see your name on them." Draco smiled as innocently as he possibly could as Riff began to become angry.

"You know damn good and well that I was headed for those swords."

"Oh? Well, I'm sorry. I guess it's true what they say about finders, keepers. But, I guess if you want them that bad..." Draco smiled again and Harry could already guess his next words.

"What?" Riff asked, apparently not catching on yet. He lifted a hand to brush his brown hair out of his eyes.

"Why not fight me for them?" Draco taunted. "We could use on apiece and the first to be disarmed loses." Suddenly it seemed as if the entire room was watching Draco and Riff, because they were. All over the room, students who were standing and sitting and holding weapons they'd been examining stopped and turned to see the confrontation, obviously expecting a continuation of this morning's breakfast. Hermione was the only person moving as she rushed up to Riff urgently.

"Don't do it," she said frantically. Her bushy, brown hair seemed even more poofy to Harry than usual. "He's had a lot of training and you've already gotten into one fight today. You'll get either more detention or you'll be expelled if you fight him now." Draco's smile was replaced by a grimace as Hermione spoke.

"Shut your filthy mouth, mudblood!" Draco nearly spat at Hermione. "He doesn't need your help to make his decisions!"

"You can't talk to Hermione like that, you weasel!" Ron shouted in rage at Draco. Draco sneered at Ron spitefully.

"You call me a weasel? You're the weasel. Why it's even in your name, 'Weasel-y!'" Snickers and outright laughter erupted from the students nearest Draco, all Slytherins, of course.

"You little prat!" Ron yelled back. Harry could see his ears turning scarlet like they usually did when Ron was angry. He quickly moved up behind Ron and grabbed him, curving his own arms under Ron's and up over Ron's shoulders to restrain him.

"Ron, calm down," Harry whispered to Ron. "He's not worth it." Ron struggled against Harry, nearly breaking free once. He tried uselessly to get his arms back to hit Harry, but failed each time. Harry dodged the attempted blows the best he could and was about to just let Ron go when Riff threw up an arm. Instantly all chatter and excitement died down and a few moments later Ron stopped struggling, allowing Harry to relax and release him.

"Ron," Riff said, "that's your name, right? Well then, Ron, stay out of this." Riff looked Hermione up and down and then pushed he out of the way. "You stay out of it too." With Hermione out of the way, Riff had a clear line of sight to Draco, who was standing in the same spot, holding the swords and wearing that characteristic smirk of his that made it seem like he thought himself superior to everyone else—which, in fact, he did. Riff held his hand out toward Draco and spoke a single word that made Draco's smile widen visibly.

"Sword," Riff said simply. Draco brought his arm back and tossed the sword in his left hand to Riff, who caught I in his out-stretched hand. Riff ran his hand down the blade and Harry could see some sort of runic markings on it, but he couldn't tell what t meant. Riff ran his hand down the blade again, this time to the hilt. Harry noticed that the hilt was shaped like a red dragon. In place of eyes were green emeralds and at the end of the dragon's tail—twined around the hilt—was a rather large diamond.

Riff snapped the sword up in front of him and took a wide stance, with his feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. Draco chuckled slightly and shook his head in what seemed to be disappointment as his eyes lowered to the floor.

"Look, he takes the stance of an amateur," Crabbe said from behind Draco. Whether Riff even heard the comment or not, Harry couldn't tell as he stood where he was, unmoving with his eyes locked onto Draco. Finally, Draco's misplaced mirth broke and he took a smaller stance as Riff began to advance when he saw that Draco was finally ready to begin combat.

Riff bore down on Draco hard, closing the distance quickly in an attempt to catch him off-guard. At first Harry thought that Riff stood a pretty good chance of hitting Draco, but soon enough it became apparent even to him, one who had never been trained to fight, that Riff's momentum was too great for him to be able to attack Draco should the boy move aside. Apparently Draco observed this as well and sidestepped at the last moment to let Riff's speed carry him past the blonde-haired boy. Those Slytherins still gathered behind scattered as Riff barreled toward them. As Draco raised his sword to strike at Riff it seemed as if the battle was already finished, but remarkably Riff stopped, then turned and brought his own sword up just in time to stop the overhead cleave from Draco. The utter astonishment that replaced the smirk on Draco's face brought a smile to Riff's face. Harry then realized what Riff had done. He had known all along what he was doing, but he had gained the upped-hand in this duel by pretending that he had no clue how to use a sword. Harry smiled lightly at the look on Draco's face. Up until now there had been no one brave, or stupid if one looked at it that way, enough to challenge Draco Malfoy. Now, he was losing at the one thing that he bragged about and could actually back with skill and talent.

A cheer rose from the Gryffindors at Riff's blocking Draco's sword, but was followed immediately by a groan as Draco's knee came up to catch Riff in the stomach. Riff doubled over and again it seemed as if the duel would end. Yet, again Riff miraculously got his defense back up to catch Draco's attack. That's how the battle went for the next fifteen minutes. Draco would cheapshot Riff and Riff would somehow manage to block the next attempted blow.

Before long, Harry could see that this was taking a toll on both of the combatants as sweat rolled off of their faces to splash onto the floor. He could tell that the battle was going to end soon, one way or another because both of the boys were making more and more mistakes. Suddenly, Riff turned toward the wall, leaving a huge, gaping hold for Draco to attack. Draco saw that hold and capitalized on it, striking Riff hard in the side with the flat of his blade. Riff had been reaching for a shield, but when the lade struck, he grabbed his side and, already weakened from the exertion of battle, fell tot he floor and dropped his sword which clattered on the floor noisily.

A groan escaped the mouths and throats of the Gryffindors and everyone went back to the choosing weapons as the conflict was over. However, Draco wasn't finished just yet. Raising the sword over his head, he snarled at Riff. Harry was the only one still paying attention and his breath caught in his throat. Draco had been mad he know that, but was he stupid enough to kill Riff? Time seemed to slow nearly to a stop as Draco's sword began its long descent toward Riff's exposed back. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. By now, several others were paying attention again and by all appearances, Riff was as good as dead. But as they say, looks can be deceiving.

Without a breath of warning a dagger whipped through the air and nailed Draco in the hand, hilt first. Draco, stunned and hurt, recoiled his hand from the hilt of his sword, letting it fall harmlessly beside its twin on the cold, granite floor. Only then did anyone notice Drizzt as he strolled into the center of the room. Instantly every person in the room backed against the wall and stood stock-still so as not to seem a part of the scuffle that had just taken place. Drizzt's eyes scanned the room quickly before coming to rest on the two combatants. He stooped and quickly retrieved his dagger.

"I don't remember giving anyone permission to practice their combat skills," Drizzt remarked coolly. In response, Draco snarled and screamed at him.

"You tried dot kill me!" He searched frantically for support from his housemates, but after having seen Draco hit with the dagger, no one was eager to speak up. "Did you see the way he tried to kill me?" Again, the Slytherins remained silent.

"Trust me," Drizzt replied, "if I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." Harry had never seen Drizzt fight and had no idea whether the dagger had hit where intended or not, but he knew that he believed that statement whole-hearted. Riff stirred and groaned on the floor as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, still holding his side.

"Shit," he said softly when he noticed that Drizzt was in the room.

"Shit indeed, Mr. Strite," Drizzt said, "that seems to be some hit you took. Care to tell me how this started?"

"It wasn't his fault, professor," Hermione spoke up from beside Harry. "He was provoked by Draco."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Do not speak unless spoken to." Harry had a strong feeling that Drizzt was extremely piss, but was not letting it become evident. "Now, Mr. Strite, how did this happen?" Riff groaned again and straightened. He must have been hit harder than Harry had thought if it was still causing him this much pain.

"After you went back there," Riff pointed to Drizzt's chambers, "I was going to choose those swords there on the floor. Both of them, that is. When this asshole noticed that I was gong to get them, he grabbed them first. Then I confronted him and he suggested that we fight using the swords, winner take all." Drizzt nodded, apparently turning the news over in his mind.

"It seems you lost, Mr. Strite," Drizzt said simply. "Any idea why?"

"I turned to grab a shield from the wall and Draco hit me as hard as he could in the side."

"So you've learned two lessons today," Drizzt told Riff in a semi-stern voice. "The first lesson," now he was speaking to the class as a whole, "is that you should never go into battle with rage. Anger clouds your judgment and dulls your senses. The second is that you should never let your guard down in battle. To do so is fatal." Drizzt spun and pointed at Neville Longbottom, who turned quite pale and shrunk back against the wall.

"You, boy," Drizzt said, his purple orbs locking onto Neville, "come on now, you're in no trouble. What's your name?"

"N-N-Neville Longbottom, s-s-sir..." Neville managed to squeak out though his chattering teeth.

"All right, Neville, was this a fair fight?" Drizzt asked him the question in a manner that said he already knew the answer. Neville merely nodded and Drizzt turned back to Riff and Draco, the latter still glaring hotly at the black elf. "It would seem, Mr. Strite, that you lost in a fair fight. Therefore, not only to keep in the fairness, but also as a lesson to help you remember your defeat next time, the swords will go to Draco as his prize." Riff's eyes fell to the floor in disappointment. "That was the agreement, was it not?" Drizzt asked. Riff nodded without looking up from the floor. Then, as if nothing had happened, Draco stooped to retrieve the swords and Drizzt turned to seat himself at his desk, saying, "You have a half hour left to choose your weapons."

The rest of the class went fairly smoothly with only a few arguments over weapons, but all were resolved quickly in light of the earlier occurrence. Harry chose a single sword and shield, Hermione chose two of what Harry thought were one-handed pitchforks, and Ron chose a halberd. It took Riff the whole half-hour to decide on a simple rapier and dagger. It really surprised Harry that only a handful of students—enough to count on two hands—had chosen two weapons. He'd heard several of the others saying that they wanted to use two weapons, but it seemed that the prospect of having extra lessons with the dreaded dark elf was more than most of them were willing to handle. After all of the weapons had been chosen, Drizzt gave them the rules for the weapons. They were like magic, only to be used with permission. Students were not to ever be more than five feet from their weapons, Drizzt had told them. He had assured them that all of their other professors had been told to take points from the house of a student who violated the rule. Harry thought that there were rather too many rules, but if Drizzt thought they were necessary then there was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

When weapons-choosing and rules-giving was over with, the students were instructed to put away their newly acquired weapons. They were then given wooden short swords and the rest of the class was spent with Drizzt taking them through a series of offensive drills, and basic stances. Harry was quite enjoying himself despite the quickness with which Drizzt sped through the drills. The class spent maybe ten minutes on each and went on to the next.

"All right, Drizzt finally said about ten minutes before the class ended, "take the swords with you when you leave and practice in your free time. Those seven of you that chose two weapons need to see me after dinner to discuss schedules for your extra lessons. Mr. Strite and Mr. Malfoy, do try and be punctual, hmm?" Drizzt then turned and walked back into his private chambers, closing the door softly behind him.

Harry had not thought that a room could clear as fast as this one did. Within a few minutes he, Ron, Hermione, and Riff were the only people left in the Room of Requirement. They stood looking at one another for a few moments, the three friends regarding Riff silently and he doing the same with the three friends. Several moments passed that way before Harry finally extended his hand to the other boy.

"My name's Harry, Harry Potter." He motioned to the other two. "These are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." Riff's eyes went to Harry's forehead quickly and then back to Harry's out-stretched hand. He shook it heartily and Harry could feel the other boy's strength.

"Harry Potter, huh?" he mused. "_The_ Harry Potter?" Harry nodded reluctantly, dreading having another fan. "Well that's cool. I'm Riff Strite. Strangest name you'll ever hear, I'm sure, but then I'm not exactly normal myself." He shook the hands of Ron and Hermione quickly and then stooped to gather his things.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Riff," Ron said rather brightly. It surprised Harry that he was in a good mood after having to be taught by Drizzt.

"Well, thanks," Riff smiled and turned to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to the trio. Would you guys mind walking to Care of Magical Creatures with me? I don't know where it is."

"Oh, of course," Harry said, starting toward him. "This means you'll get to meet Hagrid. He teaches that course and he's a good friend of ours." Riff nodded as he exited the room, the other three right behind him. As the four students walked the seven floors down to the entry hall, Ron began to explain to Riff some things about Hogwarts.

"The first thing you have to know," Ron was telling Riff, "is that Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Second, you have to know that Gryffindor is undisputedly the best house. Also, like any other school, there are people you have to watch out for. The worst here would have to be Snape." Ron looked to Riff to see if he'd had a run-in with the potions master yet.

"Yeah, no kidding," Harry said spitefully.

"Snape, who's that? What did he do to Harry?" Harry just stared straight ahead as Riff turned to him for an explanation. He had no intention of ruining a perfectly good morning by talking about the second person on his most-hated list.

"He's the potions professor," Hermione said. "He and Harry are practically sworn enemies. Something that Snape has held onto from his days as a student here. He and Harry's dad were rivals or something." Hermione's mention of James Potter saddened Harry slightly, while making him feel better at the same time.

"Yeah," Ron said darkly, "and of course you've met Draco Malfoy. He's the biggest prat you'll ever meet, guaranteed."

"Probably the dumbest one too," Harry chimed in. "Our third year here, he got scratched on the arm by a hippogriff during Care of Magical Creatures. He went around for the rest of the week talking about how he nearly lost his arm." Riff chuckled slightly and Ron laughed outright.

"Stupidity seems to come pretty standard for his kind," Hermione said with a grin. They reached the entry hall about that time and Harry noticed that it was empty.

"Crap, we're going to be late," he moaned. "Come on, let's go." The group of friends ran out the front door of the castle, not stopping to look around. Had they done so, they would have noticed a pair of yellow eyes staring at them from the shadows.


End file.
